Harry Potter and the Falsehood Ploy
by LGreymark
Summary: With Fleur's redemption, war on the horizon and the weariness of the Regiment towards their goal, Harry and Hermione have never before faced such a challenge. Will they be able to weather the storm and hold the Regiment together? Or will they be left alone to fight the coming war? HHr, smut in later chaps. (Romance/Tragedy/Adventure). Part three of the Deception series
1. Cold Zero

AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

AN2: Yaaaaaaay. It's here

-:-

Chapter One: Cold Zero

Tracey was really beginning to loath the cold. Normally she wasn't so opposed to it but after staying nearly motionless for over twelve hours in the freezing cold and wet she felt entitled to a personal grudge against the elements. She and Susan had made the journey northeast from Wales several days ago, travelling overland by foot to minimize their magical signature. The Regiment had gotten Intel that there was a gathering of the Knights Walpurgis happening near the border between England and Scotland.

It was a rare opportunity to gather Intel and potentially strike at the leadership of their enemies, and after losing Daphne to Valmortis' minions the two girls had wanted some payback. So it had fallen to them to trudge the nearly three hundred kilometres cross country to the meeting point, leaving barely an hour after the memorial for the fallen from the ministry battle. They had both gained a new appreciation for magic and as they travelled, only being able to use portable rune powered stoves to cook food and with only their enchanted clothes for warmth they had both gained a new respect for the dedication Muggles took to travel when they did so in such a manner.

When at last they had reached their designated overlook a day before the meet was to take place they had felt some small measure of relief at the hardest leg of their journey's end. Approaching the site magically would have tipped their targets off to what was happening, but regardless of the outcome of their operation they would have to make a swift exfiltration and would be port-keying directly back to the Manor and safety.

After sleeping for nearly half their remaining time and making a point of eating a filling meal they had both settled in for the long wait on magically camouflaged tarpaulins that would be impossible to spot from above; Susan with her spotting scope trained on the magical rune circle where the Knights would be meeting and Tracey laying prone behind her rifle.

The first few hours had been fine, chatting between themselves and genially passing the time. But the inevitable Scottish rain had swept in and despite the warm waterproof clothes both girls were wearing and the tarpaulins they were laying on both had been soaked to the bone within minutes. Only their magic was keeping them from hypothermia at this point, but they couldn't do anything about the chill without creating a magical flare that might alert any scouts to their presence. The point of arriving so far in advance of their marks was that their magic would attune itself with the land and allow them to blend in seamlessly from a magical surveillance point of view. It was still cramp inducing though.

So here was Tracey, lying on her stomach in the mud and water that had pooled in the natural depression her body had created on the tarp and she was not a happy girl. There was muddy water in her cleavage and her knickers were soaked, but she had a job to do.

The two girls were on the edge of a copse of beech trees that had provided some fallen limbs to cover themselves with for added camouflage in addition to the ghillie suits both girls were wearing. The suits were an ingenious invention of the twins that mimicked the muggle creation of the same name, but instead of using fabric and fibre to simulate vegetation tiny runic clusters were sewn throughout the garments that weaved a complex camouflaging illusion around them. The result of this being two extremely well hidden, if saturated and grumpy, girls.

Lying in such a position for such a long time had created a deep stiffness in Tracey's muscles that no amount of careful wiggling would abate, and she hated to wiggle harder or even stretch for fear of disturbing her hard won harmony with the magic of the land. She would have to stay put, although not for much longer.

All of their preparations had come to a head suddenly as figures in the ubiquitous uniform of the Knights Walpurgis began to apparate into the glade where the runic circle was marked. Snapping out of her light stupor Tracey scoped in on the gathering and inserted the end of the extendable ear attached to her scope into her ear just as Susan did the same beside her. The modification to the already massively successful snooping device allowed Tracey to pick up the audio coming from whatever she trained her scope on. It was a fantastic piece of magic and it allowed her now to listen in from an incredible distance on what the Knights were saying.

Unfortunately they were all speaking in German.

Cursing softly under her breath she stared through her scope searching for targets of interest. Susan's job was slightly more diverse, not only was she searching for a target but also was she trying to record as much of the Knight's meeting as possible for the Regimental advisors to decipher once they got back to the Manor. Tracey smiled at the grunt of displeasure from her friend.

"Rat crawl up your trousers?"

"No, just these bloody Germans. Can't understand a word."

"Anyone interesting?"

"Can't see Valmortis amongst them if that's what you're asking. Although the speaker does seem to carry weight; perhaps him?"

"No, he'll have wards about him to prevent something like that. We aim a couple of rungs lower down the ladder, and pick off more of them before we have to go. Like us there aren't really enough of them that they can afford to suffer casualties. Taking out even one of the grunts will wipe out dozens of demons from the ranks too."

Susan's grunt this time was in the affirmative and she started marking targets with the magical function in her sighting scope. It was linked to Tracey's rifle scope so that the targets Susan marked would show up as a vibrant offensive orange colour in her view. She took a long slow breath before clicking the safety off her weapon and carefully adjusting her scope for distance and wind, not to mention the rain.

The rain was actually in their favour here, it would muffle her shots far more efficiently than any silencer and she'd be able to get off multiple rounds before they had to leave. They waited for another half hour before Tracey spoke again.

"Wherever you're ready Suze, got what you need?"

"I have no idea, but they could break up and leave at any time. We should get to work."

Taking another long slow breath Tracey scoped in on her first target. She was about to fire what the Captain called a cold bore. The first shot of her weapon in the engagement that would be working on the weapon's baseline characteristics, no weapon heat or mechanical fatigue. Just engineering and skill pitted against the wind, distance and rain.

The point where her bullet's path would intersect with the target was called the zero. When the conditions of the cold bore were balanced perfectly and she placed a shot directly on the zero it was called a cold zero, that first (and sometimes only) vital chance at completing her task, today though it would be the first of many shots.

She double checked her aim as Susan kept an eye on the target, Tracey wouldn't be able to confirm the kill immediately with the weapon's recoil, and gave Tracey the go ahead.

One more deep breath, carefully pull the bolt of her weapon back to arm it. Triple check the aim. Squeeze the trigger.

Rinse and repeat.

-:-

"Alastor Moody, Age; unknown, estimated to be over five hundred, Master Auror, Order of Merlin; second class, possessor of an official cross of the round table, rare these days, murderer; of over two hundred and fifty witches and wizards bearing the Dark Mark or the Pentacle of Walpurgis. You are a very hard man to catch."

The speaker has a rough voice, with a thick eastern European accent that makes his English nearly indecipherable. A long thin rod of wrought iron is held in one hand, a thick bible in the other.

"You're a heretic, a witch."

"A wizard"

"Use what word you will, you practise magic. You're a murderer, but to be fair that is your only sin. You do not steal, or cheat, or lie. You don't cavort with demons, and you're loyal to a fault."

"How do you know all this about me?"

"I said you're a hard man to catch, not a hard man to find. The woman you've been chasing for the last couple of months is a double agent, working for us as well as Albus Dumbledore."

"Black?"

"Black"

Moody snorted, his eye (the magical one) rolling obscenely in its socket.

"Otherwise known as 'Mad-Eye', adorable"

"No need to be sarcastic boy."

"Wouldn't dream of it"

"You gonna let me down? I can feel my stump starting to get pins 'n needles."

"Hmmm, no, I think I'll leave you there a while longer. Let you ruminate on your sins."

Another exasperated snort from Moody from where he was rotating slowly, hanging from the ceiling by iron chains under his armpits.

"You know who I am, who _we_ are."

"Yes"

"Good, just wanted to make sure. Sorry to leave you hanging 'Mad-eye', but I have other things to attend to."

"Oh sod off then"

"Yes sir"

-:-

"Harry, there're something like thirty members of the Regiment from the reserves who want to join active service"

The young man known as Harry Potter growled under his breath from the antique leather swivel chair where he was elegantly sprawled. Over the last couple of years he'd grown to a commanding height of five foot ten inches and with the careful diet, exercise and general love he was surrounded with the previously scrawny boy had filled out and gained a lean but elegant appearance, slender and willowy like his mother.

"Don't growl at me Harry, you know full well they deserve to fight."

He growled again, just to be stubborn, before spinning around slowly and fixing his bond mate with a frustrated glare.

"I just don't want to put more of them in danger, you know that."

Hermione Grange: brightest witch of her age, budding sorceress, and one of only three people on the planet Earth who felt confident talking Harry down from one of his 'growly' moods.

"And they know that, which is why the Regiment is strictly volunteers only. They want this Harry, they're going to fight either way, if we take them into the active roster and train them we can help them live through this, instead of letting them spend their lives needlessly, or worse be slaughtered like lambs."

He couldn't argue with that, not without sounding insane. He spun his wand between the fingers of one hand like a drumstick while he ruminated on what to do with nearly forty new recruits.

"We need to reform the Regiment, add fire teams and move the support and auxiliary units to dedicated groups."

Nothing from Hermione, not even thoughts across their bond, she was shielding to let him think.

"Busybody, Thinktank and Medic squad can form a support division, Susan and Tracey want to be dedicated bodyguards, escorts, whatever, so we'll need a separate sniper squad to fill the role they used to."

He paused, both the spinning and the talking as a thought struck him.

"We don't have the weapons to arm them."

Hermione finally spoke up.

"Madame Bones owled us a message the other day, the muggle prime minister didn't play ball so she's got people searching for an arms dealer we can purchase ordnance from."

He closed his eyes and groaned under his breath

"Please tell me the people she has searching are well... Not wizardly?"

He could practically feel her wry grin from across the room.

"Of course not, likely enough it'll be a Muggleborn wizard or wizards she has employed, either way we should be able to arm anyone we can train."

With that problem solved his fingers started twirling his holly and phoenix feather wand again with absentminded skill that spoke of a deeply ingrained habit.

"How many total are we going to end up with?"

"Fifty nine, us included."

"Damn shame that, a round number would have been nice. Let's see, there's us and Parvati, Susan and Tracey, there's the command unit. Tyrant squad have their tank, three for a sniper squad, that's eleven, busybody, medic, Thinktank, twenty full told; leaves us with thirty nine, enough for thirteen squads exactly, four fire teams and one to spare. Don't know what to do with them yet: Another sniper squad? Sappers? We'll see."

"Another medic squad maybe? We might need them dealing with the Knights."

Harry hemmed and hawed for a few moments before shrugging.

"We can get to it when we get to it. A specialist role we haven't even considered might pop up down the road that we need them for. In the meanwhile we need to get them trained…"

"Harry?"

He'd trailed off, obviously in thought, the wand had stopped twirling.

"Susan and Tracey, they don't want to add a third to Seraphim squad do they?"

Hermione grimaced and he couldn't help but look askance at her. She grimaced some more before answering him blithely

"Well, I don't think they'd mind a third person, it just… they want someone who has the same… qualifications as them."

He raised an eyebrow and asked dryly.

"Harry Potter fan girls?"

She shot him a withering glare.

"Crude but… accurate"

He grunted in assent before moving smoothly to his feet and crossing the room in a couple of quick strides to stand before his lover.

"Walk with me?"

"Always"

-:-

It was surreal, Hermione thought, walking around the gardens of the grounds barely five days after the battle at the ministry. They had held the service for the five squad mates they lost in the battle the day afterwards; they were now entombed in the crypt alongside Daphne. Their families had attended the ceremony and had given their heartfelt commendations to the rest of the Regiment, reinforcing their belief that they were doing the right thing.

The Regimentals had fallen back into their habits after the day of peace and the rattle and snap of rifle fire echoed up and down the grounds from the firing range. Her mum, Emma, was days away from giving birth to little John. Hermione could still only scarcely believe that she was going to be a sister soon; she knew that Harry was equally befuddled at the idea of having an adopted brother.

Harry had all but ordered Dan to be with Emma, Victoria knew enough about the training to keep the Regiment in line while the Grangers and Harry were out of action for the next week or so. The elder Grangers because of the baby, Harry and Her because of Fleur… Epine…

Wasn't that just the thorniest of issues? The nosferatu was still chained up in the basement and they hadn't yet had the time to prepare the ritual that would banish Voldemort's influence from her forever. Hermione frowned, if Voldemort was dead, his soul sent on, why was Fleur's… Epine's body still such a horrific resemblance to that monster? It was a conundrum she would have to research later, for now they had arrived at the destination Harry had been subtly steering them to.

Hermione looked up at the rustic building that was the barracks and couldn't help but draw a deep breath to steady her suddenly jangling nerves. This was a conversation she really, really, did not want to have.

Ever the anchor of calm and strength that she needed him to be Harry's mind swept through hers like it had done hundreds of times before and calmed her racing thoughts, bringing her back to an even keel. She leaned close and kissed the underside of his jaw (the highest place she could reach without him leaning down to her) softly in thanks.

He led her calmly to the dining hall in the barracks where the Squads could eat on their days off without having to troop up to the main manor building for food. Waiting for them were the eight remaining squad leaders as well as Pavarti. Harry handed her to her seat before he sat down next to her and cleared his throat.

"We've got some news, but it can wait until after what this meeting was called to sort out, so let's get to it. In the last couple of weeks we've lost four members of the Regiment to enemy fire. Daphne first, then the entirety of Bitesize squad was wiped out in the last engagement. It's grim to be sure, and we asked you last night to sound out the members of your squads, and think yourselves, about whether any of you wanted out of the Regiment.

This is a volunteer unit, if any of you feel you're not able to continue fighting then you can leave without stigma from the rest of us, you know that, your squads know that. That being said and understood is there anyone here, or absent, who wants out?"

The silence from the surrounding members of the Regiment made Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She'd come to know and, in her own way, love each and every one of these young men and women who fought alongside them. She didn't want to see any of them go. The relaxation of Harry's tense muscles told her volumes about how her mate felt about the situation, and how similar his thoughts were to hers. Never mind that she already knew exactly how he felt because of the emotions rushing through his mind.

"Thank you, all of you, for your continued support and service. Make sure you tell your squads we appreciate it."

He took a breath and Hermione took over to give him a moment to catch his breath and calm himself back down.

"We got news today that thirty three regimentals from the reserves want to join active service and, considering what we're up against, we've agreed. This means there's going to be a bit of a reshuffle insofar as how the squads and fire teams are organized: Purepower, Aegis, Vixens, you'll be forming fire team one. Squads Eight Nine and Twelve will be forming fire team two. Busybody, Thinktank and Medic squads will be forming a support fire team with Busybody squad handling in-theatre sapping and support, Thinktank being a general relief squad that can redeploy if another fire team is beleaguered and Medic squad will be setting up an in-theatre triage for injured Regimentals for rapid medical aid, one of the house elves has volunteered to keep an eye on the vitals of the Regiment and evacuate any squad member who is rendered incapable of fighting.

Tyrant squad will be dedicating themselves to the _Tyranny_ and will be an auxiliary unit with thirteen elves assisting including Cranky and twelve others to transport the _Tyranny_ to and from the site of battle in groups of four. If the _Tyranny_ is too large for the engagement Tyrant Squad will operate in the same function as Thinktank squad and will deploy to any fire team that needs assistance."

Hermione took a chance to catch her breath and have a sip of water as Harry took over.

"Susan and Tracey will be acting as escorts for Parvati, Hermione and I as well as any VIP's on the battlefield such as hostages or specialists like Umbridge. Three of the incoming Regimental recruits will be cherry picked to be a dedicated sniper squad to fill the role Seraphim squad is leaving, twenty seven of the remainder will be split into three fire teams of three squads each to fill out the front line units and the remaining three will be a specialist squad that we haven't determined the exact role of as of yet, might be more snipers depending on the number of marksmen, might be another medic squad, could be something completely different we haven't thought of yet, either way that will bring the battle order to: Sixty eight active infantry three of them in-tank, with fourteen elf auxiliaries… Questions?"

Neville spoke up in his cultured tones.

"Do we have the armament to equip all these new recruits? I was under the impression that we were only just getting by as is."

Harry nodded acknowledging the point

"We are, but Madam Bones is in the process of sourcing more arms so that we can equip these new Regimentals as well as any others that join active service over time."

The thirteen young adults all sat back in their seats and contemplated the change the Regiment was about to undergo.

"There are more people joining than we had to begin with, we've had losses, there's going to be so many more recruits than veterans."

It was a slightly empty statement from Parvati; it didn't really lead them anywhere that they didn't already know, it was more of an admission of shock than anything else.

"It's not just firearms training that they need either, they all missed out on a lot of the training we did for the battle of Hogwarts. At least we'll have something to train them in before their weapons get here."

Harry nodded slowly at Parvati's thoughts

"True, we have a lot more people who know what they're doing to train them now though. It'll be much easier to get them in to shape now that we know what needs to be done."

They all looked at each other across the table for a few moments longer before Fred voiced the thought they all had.

"We're the old guard now… The veterans, it's damned strange that."

The stereo answer from fourteen other mouths came rapidly.

"Aye"

-:-

"Some food, I imagine you haven't eaten in some time."

"My thanks, untie me so I can eat it?"

"Not a chance."

The thickly accented man had returned bearing a plate of bread and cheese. It was very cliché for a prisoner's meal but Alastor didn't complain; food was food. Some magic in the plate levitated the food to mouth height, it was degrading but the master Auror didn't rightly care; food was food.

As he ate the man had some more questions for him, or more accurately began asking some, his previous vocalisations had been more statement than question.

"What tipped you off to our agent's duplicity?"

"You speak English very well for a Pole."

Silence, looked like he wasn't going to play Alastor's game.

"I was pretty close behind Valmortis and his ilk but she was getting information home faster than even I could. Clearly she had a deeper intelligence network or was a part of the group I was chasing. Either way I wanted to find her and get answers."

"Arrogant of you, to believe no one else could get information back to your superiors before you could."

"I'm the best."

"Clearly"

The dry wit in the man's tone did not escape the chained Englishman: The best indeed, the best at being a captive perhaps.

"Moving on… You were found in possession of six wands. Are they all yours?"

"No, two are, the rest are trophies or keepsakes."

"Could you identify them from memory?"

"Two thirteen inch wands, one of dragon heartstring and willow, the other oak, are mine. The willow wand came to me at eleven, the other when I was three hundred and ten. Two are trophies I keep with me, one twelve inches, yew, unicorn tail hair, the other ten inches, birch, manticore spine, and remarkably unyielding if I may say so. The first was the wand of a rather ugly fellow I killed in Belgium, my first human kill, one of Grindlewald's fellows. The other was the wand of Aloysius Nott, the death eater who claimed my leg."

He took a moment to chew some more of the bread before continuing, it wasn't half bad.

"The final two wands are those of my wife Evelyn and daughter Lena; the first thirteen inches, maple with a unicorn tail hair, the other eleven inches, rowan, with a dragon heartstring core."

"Thank you for that… you're being remarkably forthcoming with this information."

"I've told you no secrets. And I figure we're mostly on the same side or you'd have killed me already. You do have something of a reputation."

"Quite, enjoy your meal Master Auror Moody. I will return."

"Don't mind if I do."

-:-

"Are you okay love?"

It was approaching evening and the two teen lovers were in their apartments, Hermione curled up on the window seat, Harry bent over some contraption or other on his workstation. It was Hermione who'd spoken upon feeling the roiling emotions coming from her soulmate. Harry shrugged once before leaning back at his chair and looking at the ceiling.

"Seeing Fleur again, it brought everything back."

Hermione had an idea of what he meant but she wanted to be sure.

"The third task?"

"Yeah"

It was strange; he very rarely hid his thoughts from her, but something like this she could understand: part of him still saw Fleur's forced rape of him as him cheating on her. It wasn't particularly logical but she could forgive him for that, it was a traumatic event and she really couldn't expect him to have all his doxies in a row about it.

"You want to talk about it?"

He shrugged again and she frowned, he wasn't usually this reticent, even with situations like this. She rephrased her question

"You need to talk about it?"

This time his head and shoulders slumped and the full impact of how much this was affecting him slammed home. Smoothly she rose from the window seat and made the short journey to his chair where she knelt down next to him and took his hands in her own.

"I love you, always."

"And I you, always."

One of his hands slipped from her gentle grasp to caress her cheek with tender affection.

"There aren't going to be memories that accompany this change, it'll be the same creature, just Veela again, instead of nosferatu. Can we reconcile the fact that it's probably killed hundreds of people? I don't know if I can."

"But we need to do this"

"Yes, we do."

She smiled softly and leaned into his hand as it cupped her cheek, basking in the warmth of his affection.

"She loved you."

His tight nod told her more than his previous monologue

"She did once, stands to reason she could again. You're worried about me, how I feel about you having all these women around you who love you when you've committed yourself to me."

It was a shrewd statement and his wry smile gave her all the answer she needed. Carefully she brushed his hands aside and rose, only to sink down into his lap with her head nestled under his chin.

"You can't help their affection, especially when it's because you're such a good man that these women love you at all. You love me; that's all I need. I'm here for you, always. Now tell me what the real problem is."

His rueful chuckle made her smile softly, that smile widened as his arms came up to wrap around her waist.

"I'm worried that seeing her again, talking to her again, that it'll break me, again. I barely held on earlier, and you were the one who did the talking. I don't know how I'll manage further"

She mulled that over for a moment, he wasn't just worried about it affecting him, but how it would affect _them_.

"Did I leave you then? No. Did it damage our relationship then? No. Will it do so if it happens again? No, never. I love you, and I meant always when I said always. If you need another few months to heal that's fine, if you need years and decades to heal that's fine. I'm here, I have all I need in your love and regard for me."

She felt dampness on her crown and twisted in his arms to see tears flowing down his cheeks. Touched indescribably by the emotion roiling through him she closed the short distance between them and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, reaffirming their bond for the umpteenth time.

"Thank you"

The soft words whispered against their lips as they parted set a warmth deep in her bones that saw heat prickle in her own eyes.

"Always my love, nothing shall part us."

"Shall we try again?"

"We shall."

-:-

"Hello Fleur"

It was Hermione who had spoken, her voice warm but stiff. Memories of the last time either had seen her were roiling through their minds. The creature they once knew as their friend had a mad glint in its hollow eyes and its arms and legs were straining uselessly against the thick magic restricting chains.

She couldn't look at Harry right now; she knew the look of remembered pain in his eyes would undo her. He had never let her see those memories and for good reason, she knew it would drive her mad to feel that kind of emotional pain in the man she loved. This… thing was not Fleur. So much had happened since their fourth year at Hogwarts that Hermione barely remembered the witch she had come to call friend. But she knew this was not her.

Truthfully she was certain that there had been a portion of the end of that year where her friend had no longer existed. A portion where she had been replaced by a magically and hormonally controlled drone designed to break Harry and bring him to his grave.

Hermione delved through her own mind, dragging the half-forgotten memories of their friend to the surface, Fleur Delacour was a genuine and emotional woman with an independent streak a mile wide but also a great deal of trust in, and need for protection from, Hermione's mate. That all of that trust and closeness had been perverted for the sick dreams of a psychopathic murderer was something that turned Hermione's stomach.

A shaking hand moved past her vision and she turned to see Harry's body moving forward, his approaching the now trembling nosferatu. She flicked a measure of concern at his actions over their bond but all she got back was a desperate need to know that they could get Fleur back, their friend. Or at least break Voldemort's hold over her. Even from the grave he was still taunting them.

The creature that was once Fleur was watching Harry's hand with something approaching awe and shied away slightly from it as it approached. The moment that hand touched the creature's cheek however it nuzzled into it, clearly basking in something Harry was giving off. Repulsed Harry withdrew his hand as if burned and, after turning sharply, strode from the room.

Hermione yearned to follow him but knew he needed her to succeed here more than he needed her to provide useless platitudes. All the comfort she could give him was already flowing across their bond. Rolling her neck and feeling a satisfying pop the smartest witch of the age drew her wand and started weaving the most complex spell she had ever heard of: The 'Animus Divisora' The soul dividing spell.

-:-

Harry was hugging his mother, not Lily Potter, but Emma Granger. They held separate places in his heart, distinct ones, and important ones. But he would never dream of replacing his birth mother with another woman. Emma just helped fill the blanks. While she couldn't understand the pain Harry was going through with the potential return of the young woman who had once been his friend, before her betrayal, she could absolutely give him the comfort only a mother could.

The heavily pregnant mother could only cling to her adopted son as he was to her, his normally stoic demeanour broken as he sobbed bitterly into her shoulder. She understood why Hermione wasn't here, she was doing what she could for their one time friend, but Emma wasn't certain she approved of her daughter being away from Harry physically at this time, even if she knew Hermione was probably lending all the mental and emotional support she could through the teens' mystical bond.

"I've got you Harry, I'm here."

The words seemed minute in effect compared to the hurricane of his emotion but she felt the uncommonly strong arms around her back tighten as he acknowledged her support.

"Talk to me Harry, let me help."

His arms merely tightened again, if only slightly, before they slackened and he leaned against her, still somehow considerate of her gravid state.

"I feel like I'm betraying Hermione by wanting Fleur back. I mean… we… she…"

Emma was at a loss at how to deal with this situation, the mixed nature of Harry's upbringing had bred in him a powerful selflessness that even now, when he was the last person anyone would consider at fault, he was still worried about others, and about how he might be affecting them. She felt tears prickle in her own eyes at the position her adopted son's emotions had thrust him into.

The biggest trouble Emma had with this was how to address the trouble without referencing the core event that was causing so much stress. She didn't know if she could.

"I love you mum"

The soft spoken, heartfelt words made her heart ache with happiness and longing. Here was her son, adopted to be sure, but her son nevertheless. He was clinging to her and taking from her the comfort he needed, and she was happy to provide it as only a mother could. She held him close and nuzzled her face into his hair.

"I love you too Harry, my boy."

He sobbed slightly against her shoulder and she felt rather than heard the timber of his breathing become more ragged, emotion teasing at his vocal chords as he spoke with deep emotion.

"Thank you, so much, for everything."

"Anytime honey, anytime."

She felt a deep ache from her womb and a tear sprang to her eye, something about Harry always made her baby active, in this case it seemed he was anxious to meet his brother. She clung to him tightly as the contraction passed and wondered if she should ask him to get Dan.

As it turned out it didn't matter much as Harry's outpouring of emotion began to rapidly peter off as his energy, still low from the battle in the ministry, ran out. Two of the Potter elves helped her move him back to his bed and she sat with him a while, gently tousling his hair as she wrapped an arm protectively around her belly, hoping beyond hope that her eldest son could make the world safe for her youngest.

-:-

It had been months and months since Harry had suffered any kind of series nightmares, or the affliction of his body. But after the battle of the ministry and with Fleur now a focus of his time both had returned with a fiery vengeance.

Whenever he closed his eyes Harry would see burning lines superimposed over the comforting blackness. They were the lines he saw every morning in the duelling ring, blurred flames surrounding pulses of sorcery streaking back and forth between two people locked in violent struggle.

They symbolized something desperate and feral in Harry's mind, the epitome of the toil of war. In some way or other Harry had been in war his entire life. Only the brief months after his birth, and the slim moments of peace with Hermione, lent any kind of respite to his existence.

His childhood; defined by pain, loneliness and neglect, was the very start of Harry's war. The night of his parent's deaths could hardly be counted; tragedy was not war, rather the opposite. Once he got to Hogwarts of course his time was split between classes and struggling for his life against Voldemort himself. Ron was little comfort from it, he was just a boy after all, and honestly in the first couple years Hermione wasn't much help either. They were friends, for sure, but only just barely. And she was absent for the ending third of Harry's second year due to that damnable serpent.

Then of course Hermione became part of Harry's private war. The fire bolt sent by Sirius was a foil to their friendship and for several months Harry thought he was going to lose one of his friends. They made up of course, and in that moment, with Hermione's arms wrapped around him so securely he thought they might fuse together he realized he never wanted to be apart from her again. Her friendship was far too precious to him to squander on such pettiness.

Sirius and the time turner happened; they flew to the tower on Buckbeak with Hermione's arms again wrapped around him and her head buried in his back with her shrieks of fear on the wind. She never had been great with heights.

After that of course things went 'round the twist: being adopted, becoming Hermione's boyfriend, soul mate and lover, training, the Tri wizard tournament, Fleur. Harry's personal war had become sharply defined and his struggle even more so. As of late, that struggle had been defined by those streaks of sorcery across his darkened vision: Those iridescent brands of violence.

His recurring nightmare flooded in soon after the beginning of sleep; the ministry, locked in mortal combat with an implacable foe, holding his own only through desperation, skill and the grace of God. Voldemort's nightmarish visage haunted his mind in waking as well as sleep, torturing him from the grave.

Abruptly he snapped awake as Hermione's hand caressed his brow. No one else's touch was quite as tender or loving as hers. He opened his eyes sharply to see her there above him like his own personal angel; her eyes gazing down at his own with love and affection that saw his heart fit to bursting.

"I'm sorry I was gone quite so long Harry."

The softly spoken words were a balm to his aching mind and he reached up to cup her cheek tenderly.

"I understand but thank you for persevering regardless."

She bowed her head, soft brown locks falling in front of her face as shame flooded their bond.

"I was unsuccessful."

"This time"

"This time" she agreed softly at his firm command. After a small pause she spoke softly once more.

"Tracey and Susan should be coming home soon."

"Let's go meet them"

-:-

The two girls were saturated and shivering with cold when they port-keyed onto the transport arms in the Manor's foyer but were instantly surrounded by medic squad who got them into warm clothes on the spot and dried them off magically. There was little body shame in the Regiment and as the girls had been in the cold and without the use of magic for a little over four days it was imperative they were warmed up quickly to give their magic a break. It would have been compensating for their drop in core body temperature for long enough for them to begin to show signs of magical exhaustion.

It was no coincidence that Harry and Hermione arrived just as the two girls did and were among the first to get to them with Medic squad. They helped the two girls into warm clothes and conjured seats and blankets for them as Elves popped in with hot drinks; tea for Susan, coco for Tracey. Fred and George swooped in to get the recordings from Susan's equipment and Dan arrived on scene moments later for the debriefing. All in all it was a picture of Regimental efficiency and in no time at all the two girls were swaddled up in warm clothes and blankets with their friends and colleagues around them as they sipped at warm drinks. A far cry from where they had been barely a minute ago.

"Report"

Dan's firm tones were nothing but expected and the Tracey led the report, knowing Susan's would take longer.

"We hiked cross country over the planned route for three days and made excellent time, sleeping for six hours each day from ten am, to four pm, dodging the hottest part of the day. We met no incident and set up camp at the designated overlook and settled in to wait. Precisely at seven pm the following night what appeared to me to be the entirety of the Knights Walpurgis met for the gathering we were advised of. Valmortis was not present but an unidentified leader spoke for a little over thirty minutes in German to the assembled Knights. I then interrupted the meeting with thirteen shots scoring eleven direct hits one glancing hit and one miss as the Knights dissaparated, pervasive rain allowed me to fire an unexpected number of rounds, ten, before they even realized they were being fired upon. After they dissaparated we quickly exfiltrated the site in fear of discovery from demonic servants of the Knights Walpurgis"

Her duty done she zoned out slightly as Susan started giving her (much more in-depth) report and met Harry's eyes. They were cold and hard with only a hint of their normal warmth. But upon meeting hers a flicker of concern shot through them and she saw his hand tighten around Hermione's almost imperceptibly. She only noticed it because of her vast experience in his mannerisms.

She gave a careful nod, indicating her wellbeing and her visibly relaxed and allowed a small smile to twitch at the corner of his lips before he focused on Susan, repeating his actions with her upon the conclusion of her report. Tracey didn't delude herself into thinking she was any more than a close friend to him, but his regard and concern still meant the world to her. That, and his approval, made what she'd just done worth it. She sent a silent prayer to her fallen friend, offering the dead Knights as succour to their mutual goal.

She'd helped him again, killed for him, again, for the right reasons. It was worth it.

-:-

"Feel like answering some more questions for me?"

Moody shrugged and gestured at the manacles with his chin.

"Let me down and I'll see what I can do. Keep me handcuffed if you must but I'm approaching the point of no return for my lower limbs. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Almost immediately the chains slackened significantly and he touched down ungainly before slumping to his side. After a few moments pulling himself together he nodded his head.

"Go on then, ask away."

The Witch hunter drew up a stool in front of him and sat quietly, as if in contemplation, for several long moments before he deigned to speak.

"Tell me about Harry Potter."

The electric blue eye in Moody's left socket fixated upon the younger man and he growled out a short question of his own.

"Why?"

"We might be able to help."

-:-

Sirius Black was pissed, Moody was missing, presumed captured or worse, 'Black' was definitely a traitor, or at least a double agent. Despite those issues though, the thing that pissed him off the most was that Amelia was being downright evasive.

"Damnit Amelia, Susan just returned from a four day mission, she needs you."

"Sirius I… I can't I need to stay here for the moment."

"Why? What the hell is more important than your niece right now?"

The minister for magic slapped her hand down on her desk angrily and let out a frustrated sob.

"She died Sirius, Daphne died in that militant order Potter's created and I'm scared Susan will die too."

Now he was simply baffled

"Why on earth does that stop you seeing her?"

"Because she wants to be there Sirius… And if I went there I don't know if I'd be able to leave without her. And I don't think our relationship would survive me taking her away from that. Especially when I know they're doing the right thing."

He growled softly under his breath

"Amelia"

"No Sirius damnit I can't"

He sat in the chair opposite her and took her hand in his, stroking it softly with the pad of his thumb.

"Talk to me"

She looked up at him and he was startled to see tear tracks down her chiselled face

"Siri…"

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. It had been a long time since she'd called him that, many, many years. He watched as she closed her eyes, scrunching them against the sting of tears, her monocle threatened to drop from its perch.

"He's brought them together, all of them, and made real changes for good. He more or less put me in office; he's safeguarded this country far more effectively than anything else we could have hoped for. How can I go to his home and demand that Susan returns with me? I can't and I don't think I'll be able to go and _not_ demand she come with me."

"They're great kids Amelia, and they're growing together, I've been there, seen them train, socialise, live. They all have a place for him in their hearts there but you're her auntie, the woman she looks up to above all others. She'll listen to you."

"That's what I'm afraid of. If she listens to me, leaves with me, and something happens to them… to _him_ because she left, or even in such a way that she might think it was because she left… She'd hate me Siri."

He sighed heavily, understanding her plight. When he learned what Harry was cooking up in the Potter seat he'd nearly thrown a fit. Alastor of all people had been the one to point out that this was exactly the kind of boy… man, Harry was. The kind to stand up and organise a resistance rather than hide in the shadows, now it was time for him to teach Amelia that same lesson, and maybe kick some sense into her.

That's who Susan is Amelia; she's fierce and brave, loyal to the end. She'll fight tooth and nail for all her friends and loved ones, especially you. I've not known her long, really only a very short time, but even I can see that she loves Harry very deeply, maybe even as much as Hermione does… I couldn't say. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that that's where she wants to be, but what she _needs_ is for her auntie to go over there and give her the support she needs from her family to carry on."

That caught her attention

"It sounds harsh, but you need to shelve your own wants and needs for her, you need to give her the support _she_ needs to get through this, to stay the course. Because she'll hate herself for the rest of her life if she turns from it now."

He took a long slow breath and looked down at their entwined hands, the pang of lost love flooding his chest for a moment as he considered his next words.

"The ministry… the losses they had here… it hit them hard; the Regiment I mean. When I was there last I could see a lot of them were considering leaving, throwing in the towel and going into hiding with their families. Some are scared they won't see them again before they… or their families, die in this miserable war: Especially now that the Knights Walpurgis have entered the game."

He let a hint of steel enter his voice.

"Harry needs them, every single one of them, to win this war. Honestly what he really needs is Aurors and hit wizards; he needs the MANZACS and the American Mage Corps, but he doesn't have them, he has his Regiment, and that's it.

They're getting reinforcements from Hogwarts soon from what I've heard, but that'll set them back weeks of training time to get them up to speed, and that's with all the Regiment who're there, staying there. If you can give Susan the support she needs to stay the course then that's one more Regimental Harry has at his back.

He needs them Amelia…"

"Shh, I heard you the first time."

He looked up at her, not ashamed by the prickling in his eyes, and entreated her softly.

"Please Amelia, I can't lose him. I can't lose you either, not again."

Her hand disentangled from his and moved up to stroke his bearded cheek with a hint of the tenderness they'd once shared, her prematurely iron grey hair a testament to the stress she'd endured since it had been a vibrant fiery red, since they'd last been together.

"I'll go, but you have to come with me. Give me the strength I need… to give her the strength she needs. Go with me Siri."

A hint of the old dog sprang up into his features once more as he pushed his luck

"Then we'll retire home for drinks and dinner… right?"

Her hand cuffed him firmly and her soft smile became more of a smirk

"We'll see you old reprobate, we'll see."

-:-

"Harry"

The tentative request for attention reached him just as he fired a viciously overpowered jab at the training dummy that was refusing to go down. The resulting 'crump' of magical energy punched a hole in its chest large enough that the dummy's arms were tossed to either side of it, completely severed, they were soon followed by its now smoking head as it bounced across the floor.

"Yes Pavarti?"

He turned to her and saw that she appeared both strained and emotional, close to tears in fact. Immediately concerned he strode across the room and wrapped her in a friendly hug.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you going to leave me behind when Fleur comes back?"

The question stunned him slightly. He hadn't even considered how Fleur would fit into the Regimental dynamic, but thinking about it now he had to admit that Pavarti's worries were valid in the sense that Fleur had once been very close to both Hermione and him. Now though…

"No, of course not. You've become an invaluable member of the command unit, and one of my closest and dearest friends. Both Hermione and I have appreciated your unique tactical and strategic sense on multiple occasions and it would be foolish for us to discount that. Moreover the command unit wouldn't feel the same without you. That said if Fleur regains even a fraction of her memories, or the bond that caused all the trouble in the first place, she'll probably join Seraphim squad."

He took a breath, before adding in an undertone

"If she wants to fight at all."

He felt tears soak the shoulder of his training shirt and couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly at how, even a year previously, he'd have never believed the chatty Gryffindor could feel such deep emotion.

"You're my friend Pavarti. Never mind anything else that means a lot to me."

She tugged back from his embrace slightly before darting up on tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks Harry… I was being silly."

He grinned wryly

"Yes, you were. Now go talk to Hermione about it, she'll say the same things I did and you can put this entire thing out of your head."

She grinned at him cheekily, and replied in such tones, before darting off back to the main manor building.

"Yes sir!"

He watched her go with no small amount of amusement before he turned his mind back to the issue she'd brought up: Fleur's place in the Regiment. If he was honest with himself he'd admit that had Pavarti not been such an integral part of the command squad he'd have wanted Fleur to fill that position. But with the potential memory issues and personality changes he was quietly certain that he'd prefer her in Seraphim squad, where she'd be close, but not so close that the same issues could occur again… Or that he might become uncomfortable with her presence.

Even thinking about that brought up memories he really wish he could remove. He and Hermione had both considered obliviating the memories from his mind but in the end they'd agreed that they were a part of him now, not an integral part certainly but they made up a portion of his character. Removing them might irrevocably change his person, or worse turn him into someone completely different. The mind was a fantastically strange construct and they didn't feel confident in fiddling with it.

Growling angrily at the direction his thoughts had taken he almost subconsciously flicked another vicious sorcel at the downed dummy and head another satisfying 'crump' as it was neatly pummelled into the hard packed earth.

Turning back to the manor he noted another figure dashing towards him, this one male. As they approached he realized it was Neville.

"Harry! Madam Bones is on the way, you need to alter the wards for her arrival."

Cursing in shock Harry sprung into a sprint, meeting Neville halfway and the boy turned swiftly to keep up. He'd have to make quick time to the ward ledger so that he could add Madam Bones to the list of accepted persons. Otherwise her significant magical aura could activate a defensive response from the Manor's defences.

"Sirius is on the way too. Aside from that the twins want a word with you."

Nodding his acknowledgement as the pair rapidly approached the manor building he spoke in a harried undertone.

"Go get Susan."

-:-

Watching Susan reunite with her Auntie was a bittersweet experience for Tracey. Here was a family member who had their priorities straight. Unlike Daphne's parents who still refused to even acknowledge the Regiment's communications, despite the Regiment's knowledge of their continued survival. Never mind the fact that as far as anyone knew Tracey's family had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Resolving to be strong for her squad mate she moved forwards only to have a heavy hand close on her shoulder. Looking up she saw Harry's lean form beside her. He looked down at her with suspiciously bright eyes and shook his head just as Hermione approached from her other side and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

"This is for them, they'll need you soon. But let them be for now."

Harry's soft entreaty was reasonable, but it still stung slightly, where was her family when she needed them? He seemed to have understood her unspoken plea and easily folded her into a hug just as Hermione did from her other side. The implication was clear; regardless of anything else she had a family here: Even if they weren't blood.

It helped; to know that they were so determined to look after her, especially when her parents were missing. After a few moments of comfort from her two friends she noticed Susan turn to look for her. She disconnected gently from Harry and Hermione to dash across the foyer of the manor and join her squad mate. The warm three way embrace she was immediately folded into made her heart soar. Here was acceptance, love, from someone who might very well have reason to distrust, or even despise her for encouraging Susan to remain with the Regiment.

Madam Bones' soft words to them let Tracey know that this was as hard for her as it was for them.

"You're doing the right thing girls, I'm so proud of you both, and Daphne."

They had grown up together, not closely, but together. Both Susan and Tracey had known Daphne as a child but had only met each other in Hogwarts. Amelia had always been somewhat distant, especially with her job at the ministry, but she was a female figure Tracey had always looked up to, here was the vindication for that idolatry.

-:-

Hermione watched the three women reunite with a pang of regret. Daphne should be there.

It was amazing how even after she had left them Daphne was still such a big part of their lives. For Hermione she was a reminder of exactly how much they had all lost, especially Harry, for Harry she knew Daphne was a symbol of exactly what this war would cost in the end, and for the Regiment as a whole she was a representation of the risk they all took every day: The first of them to fall.

Sometimes, in the very back of her mind, hidden away from Harry's gentle meanderings through her mind, she wished that Daphne had not died. Had not been so foolishly brave as to attract the attention of that thrice cursed Litch. She had cost them so much that day, even through her sacrifice and gift… the cost had been too high.

Hermione knew Harry was aware of these thoughts, no matter how much she tried to hide them away. She'd never been all that successful with sectioning off parts of her mind from him like he was so able to do: Hiding away his worst memories from her so that she couldn't be hurt by them. Even when they merged completely there was always some part of the gestalt that ignored those recollections, as if Harry still had the dominant control over their union and prevented her from hurting herself with his recollections.

She watched sadly as Tracey and the Bones women headed out into the grounds to reconnect. From somewhere behind them Sirius strode into the manor and directly towards him, signs of grief in his mien easy to spot by someone who cared for the marauder.

Harry took half a step from her side to meet his godfather in an emotional embrace that she joined but a moment later. He really was dear to them both.

"I've missed you pup, and you too Hermione."

"Thanks Sirius, for convincing her."

The words had barely left Harry's mouth when she cottoned on to exactly what his thoughts were telling her. The grief on Sirius' face, the loss, the pain; he'd been close to Amelia before his incarceration, maybe still was. Manipulating that closeness for their cause had cost him dearly.

Hermione understood academically why they needed the Regiment at full strength; losing even a single member severely disrupted the structure of their fighting force. But she also privately disagreed with the lengths they had to go to maintain the unit; using Sirius' affection for Amelia as a tool to manipulate her into giving Susan the strength to remain with them? It was convoluted and harsh… cold even, calculating. It smacked of bureaucracy and (conversely) dictatorship.

Sighing softly into the older man's chest she hoped fervently that they wouldn't have to exploit people's feelings like that again. Even if she knew, rationally, that that was impossible.

Abruptly she was wrenched out of her thoughts at the sound of her father's excited shouts.

"Emma's gone into labour!"

-:-

AN3: Here it is! Sorry it took so damn long but getting back into the flow of writing was a major challenge that I hadn't anticipated.

AN4: Lots happening here, I shouldn't need to really comment on much except to say… yayyyyyy the baby's coming.

AN5: Review Responses:

Jkarr: We'll have to wait and see won't we?

Lupinesence: If only it was for good ;.;

Pairingmatters: Thanks for the reminder.

: Thanks!

Beyondthesea: Thanks! I was tossing up leaving Voldemort's second vanquishing till this book but it made more sense to slot it in at the battle of the ministry. Initially I'd only planned for Fleur's capture.

Issis: I wish I had the ability to translate it to Spanish. Maybe I'll try sometime but it would be a mammoth undertaking as I barely understand a word of that language, I'll think about it. As for the rest…. It's Parvati not Padma, I constantly screw that up and I'll do my best to stop.

Bakuragrey: Yes, sorry it took so long, here it is, well part one at any rate ;.; enjoy

The Viking Stranger: Thanks for your review, and for your rather flattering one at that. I hope you enjoy this instalment as much as the previous two.

Firewolfe: I had always intended for this story to be focused on the real love and affection Harry and Hermione have for one another and how, between them, they can overcome almost anything. And yes, It's Parvati, gods above that is getting annoying to answer, I need to go back and fix it.

Right well moving on, this chapter feels somewhat less polished than previous ones, probably because I wrote it in 500 word chunks over the course of the last month or two. Hopefully that doesn't negatively affect it too horrendously. Tune in next time for Chapter two: John, in which the latest Granger joins the world, we hear a little more about what's happened to Alastor, the Knights react to the killing of a dozen of their brothers and Sirius gets his game on… sort of.

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


	2. John

AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

AN2: Super mild lime, there'll be a warning, it's barely sexual, more sensual and intimate.

-:-

Chapter Two: John

"Emma's gone into labour!"

The excited shout caught the attention of the dozen or so Regimentals still about the foyer after the return of Seraphim squad and a few immediately went in the direction Hermione had shot off in at the news. Harry had barely registered her leaving his side as she dashed for the rooms set aside for the birth of the Granger's son. The house elves have already moved Emma there to be joined by the family; the Regimentals would wait in a separate lounge for news.

He followed on at a more sedate pace, doing his utmost to reassure his girlfriend that everything would be fine. A spike of anticipation rose in his gorge at what was to come; the little baby boy who would be his adoptive brother was about to join them. Excitement triggered a burst of adrenaline and Harry experienced the strangest sensation of hyper awareness while walking and mostly calm. He could almost pick out the dozen or so sources of birdsong currently serenading the manor and Hermione's excited chatter a floor above.

As he mounted the polished oak staircase that dominated the rear of the foyer Harry sent a strong flood of calm emotions over their bond, overwhelming Hermione's panicked state and letting her cling to his emotions and use them as an anchor to steady herself. The rush of gratitude back from her caused him to smirk; no matter how much they changed Hermione's ability to panic over things that were under control stayed the same.

Turning into the west wing Harry made the short journey to the maternity suite and quickly located Hermione where she was staring out the window over the well-kept gardens. He approached quietly and slipped his arms around his clearly still nervous bond-mate. He leaned down and whispered against her hair soft words of comfort and reassurance, reminding her that the Potter elves would never let anything happen to either Emma or the baby. She leaned back into his embrace, clearly taking great comfort from the strong and affectionate circle of his arms. Her hands folded over his at her stomach and she nuzzled against his chin that was now rested comfortably atop her head.

"Thankyou"

"Anytime"

They stood there together for what could have been millennia, gazing out across the grounds, as they waited for news. The maternity ward was silenced to prevent distressing sounds from reaching the rest of the manor and while Harry understood why, he questioned the validity of that decision; the near silence was eerie and it was doing nothing for Hermione's nerves. Softly he pressed a kiss against her head and whispered once more.

"Everything's going to be fine."

-:-

Hermione felt like a coiled spring as she stared blankly out over the gardens. It was pitch black outside and only the tiny groups of fairy lights gave any hint to the immaculately kept environs of the Potter family seat. In the first couple of hours she'd been calm, mostly due to Harry's constant and untiring presence in her mind, reassuring her, keeping her calm, generally just loving her.

But with the onset of fatigue both she and Harry had retreated somewhat into the bond to comfort one another after both a harrowing day and the stress of the extended wait. Their closest friends from the Regiment; Sirius, Parvati, Tracey, Susan, Amelia, Neville, Fred and George were around them in chairs and on couches, silent as the two still figures at the window.

There had been murmured conversation at first, tense and stilted, as if the participants were afraid to break the silence for fear of missing some vital aural clue. Soon enough the feeble attempts to pass the time had faded and each of them had retreated inwards to their own thoughts. Hermione watched the group behind them in the reflection of the window and turned her gaze upon each in turn.

She had no doubt where the twins' minds were. Molly Weasley was a well experienced mother and it was hard to think about motherhood without her name coming to mind, never mind that the twins were her sons.

Susan and Amelia were still conversing in low tones; obviously distracting each other with mundane discussion about various ministerial bits and bobs. Neville honestly looked like he was bored out of his mind and Hermione couldn't really blame him. While he had become close to Harry in the last few months, she and the boy hadn't conversed more than a handful of times. There was still some lingering prejudice, she thought, in the pureblood male.

Parvati's eyes were slightly damp with unshed tears, Padma had dropped by earlier and they had spoken in low tones before leaving again. The glint in their squad-mate's eyes hinted to Hermione that Parvati was happy rather than distressed but it was hard to tell with the changed girl. It used to be that Hermione could read Parvati like a book so open was the girl with her emotions. During her training and work with the Regiment something had shifted, monumentally so, in the former gossip queen of Hogwarts.

The blossoming friendship between Parvati and Hermione was one long in the making, but slow in the coming. They had shared the odd conversation in the dorms before but nothing series, only the most superficial of discussions. After third year though everything had changed, the intensive training that Mad Eye had put them through had emboldened the young witch and given her a measure of self-confidence and inner strength that let her shrug off the need to be the centre of attention. Moreover it had taught her how to take her time with things and think them through; bringing out the tactical mind that had been hidden behind layers of makeup and gossip.

Smiling softly Hermione turned her gaze to the last member of the reception: Tracey was curled up in her seat gazing at the two of them, or more likely Harry, but her eyes were blank and glazed indicating deep internal thought. While Seraphim squad's affection for Harry had always been the worst kept secret in the Regiment, Hermione also shared a fairly strong friendship with all three… with both of the girls. Tracey had initially struck Hermione as a very typical fan girl, albeit wearing silver and green rather than red and gold, or yellow and black.

But after getting to know her better Hermione realized that the girl was more than that; while she was obviously really very attached to Harry she also held a great deal of esteem for all the members of the Regiment, the command unit especially. Hermione figured that the girl punched way above her weight when it came to dealing with a lot of the stress and terror they had all faced of late, especially in that she was often the steadiest person who any of the Regimentals could go to if they needed a friendly ear.

While she didn't have the courage of Daphne or Susan Tracey did possess one thing in spades that neither of those girls had much of; trust. She had seen her best friend cut down next to her but still trusted Harry to get her through this alive, she had born witness to his infirmity but trusted Hermione would keep him safe. She trusted Susan to feed her targets in the thick of battle, and she trusted the Regiment as a whole to capitalise on the openings she made.

There was little more the young Slytherin could do to make Hermione respect her, and she didn't need to, because simply having the guts to stick through everything that had happened and fight for what was right… that was enough to earn Hermione's respect.

Hermione's internal musings were broken off abruptly as the door they had been waiting around opened and out stepped Dan with a bundle in his arms. She barely caught her breath as he approached her and Harry who was still standing with her, and offered the bundle to her to hold.

"Emma's fine, do you want to hold your new brother John?"

-:-

The rest of the night passed in a blurred whirlwind for Harry as he did his best to keep Hermione's feet on level ground and prevent her from floating away from sheer happiness and joy. His own feelings felt muted. While in theory he was excited about a new brother being added to his family, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the little Granger.

It was an absurd notion, even he realized that, but Hermione's avid focus on the young child had sparked something inside him that was decidedly unhealthy. When the two finally retired for the evening and his fatigue finally got the better of him. The careful walls he'd erected in his mind to protect Hermione from his uneasy feelings came crashing down. He turned away from her in shame as he felt her shock at the emotions flowing over his surface thoughts.

Her soft hand on his cheek made him turn, with unwanted tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and surprisingly, Hermione let him.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know…"

She stopped him there with a gentle kiss.

"It's not your fault love. You're scared"

"I am?"

The shock in his voice was genuine, so disgusted with himself over his jealousy was he that he hadn't thought to search for the cause.

"Of course you are. You lived for years and years with almost no love in your life, then I come along flooding your world with affection, not to mention the love mum and dad have for you, and now there's this other being that has dragged our focus away from you. You're subconsciously terrified we'll shove you back in that closet."

He cast his eyes down, unable to admit the truth of that statement. Now that he thought about it Hermione was, as usual, completely on the nose.

"I'm not going anywhere Harry and neither are you. I love you, so do mum and dad. I and I know our new brother will as well. I'm bonded to you Harry, through love, I'm proud to be yours, and to have you for my own, and I'd never even think of letting you get out of arms reach, I need you too much."

He closed his eyes against the sting of tears as she leaned close and wrapped her arms around him where he was sitting up in their bed. Her mind swept across his, soothing the scars of his emotional neglect and bolstering his will against his fears.

"Come back to me Harry, please."

The soft entreaty for his attention finally coaxed him to engage with her, his mind meshing with hers, letting go of the fears his battered psyche had manifested in the face of the latest change in his life.

"I love you too sweetheart. So much, what would I do without you?"

"A lot less kissing for one"

He chuckled softly and slid down in the bed, wrapping his arms around his bond mate and allowing sleep to tug at his consciousness, and drag him down to slumber.

-:-

The Regiment's daily rhythm barely stuttered due to the birth of baby John and the next morning everyone was out of bed for their usual training exercises. After calisthenics and fitness training the units broke off and did their specific weapon and specialist training regimens; The infantry rattled rounds downrange, the snipers picked their targets out across the grassy hills of Wales and the _Tyranny_ rumbled around the field set aside specifically for Tyrant squad to take it out for manoeuvres.

Originally fuel had been a concern when the decision had been made to refurbish and convert the tank to a magical fortress. But it had been easy enough to convert the engine to run on magic and simply reinforce the engine block so that it didn't damage itself running on empty. Now the tank could be heard all hours of the day crawling around its dedicated field as Tyrant squad developed more and more proficiency driving their vehicle, especially now that they were cleared for combat.

Harry was inside the surprisingly spacious tank with Tyrant squad that morning, observing their combat procedures so he could get a better understanding of how to integrate them into mixed unit tactics and battle operations. He quickly came to the conclusion that Tyrant squad had no concept of anything beyond where they needed to go and what they had to shoot, and the sooner he started mixed unit practise the better. They needed to learn to avoid friendlies.

It would be something to think about. He got them to let him out and head back to the manor so that he could reconnect with Hermione and see John, his new adoptive brother. He didn't overly like being inside the tank. When all the hatches were closed it did a credible job of blocking the connection between Hermione and him, and it was terrifying. Needless to say the embrace he received from Hermione when he got back to the maternity suite was one of her most intense.

-:-

For all the joy John had brought to the manor there was an even more pressing need on Hermione, and a far darker one. Fleur was still imprisoned in the manor. A dedicated room had been built in the vault level of the Potter family seat for the imprisonment of captives. It was centuries old and Hermione really didn't want to think about the darker side of the Potter heritage, but there it was.

When she finally summoned the courage to pry herself away from her newly expanded family and head down into the bowels of the enormous manor Hermione felt all the repressed anger flowing up within her. Harry, out of respect to what she was trying to do and the amount of concentration it needed, retreated from her mind at these times and it allowed her to let the anger she had at all manner of issues flush out of her.

First came the unwanted spike of anger at Harry's jealousy over John, she couldn't help it, it was there, an irrational response to a biological imperative. She let it flood out of her quickly, not wanting to wallow in the toxic emotion. Next came her anger at the Dursleys, Dumbledore, even Minerva, for perpetually allowing Harry to be put in such a horrible situation. That too she let flow away, useless emotions over things she couldn't change.

So on and so forth this purging of emotion went as she delved deep into the manor. She had to be totally calm for the ritual to have even the slimmest chance of success and even then the success was only minute, and temporary, requiring constant reapplication of the ritual to maintain and build upon the growing division between the souls, and the coaxing of Fleur's soul back into her body.

Physical appearance was the greatest indicator of change. While Voldemort's soul, twisted as it was, was still attached to Fleur's body, it created the horrendous creature known as a nosferatu. The process of expelling that twisted lump of spirit and replacing it with Fleur's own soul would slowly reverse the effects of the transformative process required to create a nosferatu and leave only Fleur's soul in her body.

It was ancient magic, and it was bordering on necromancy as what she was attempting to do was superficially close to bringing someone back from the dead, as Fleur had in fact, died.

But the rules were slightly different for magical creatures, and Fleur was after all, a Veela. They were susceptible to all kinds of dark rituals that twisted their bodies and minds, but at the same time their souls were also much more strongly tethered to their mortal shells. And even after death it was possible to bring back a measure of that personality.

The ritual she was using essentially swapped the darker soul inside the nosferatu's body for the purer, though not lily white, soul of the Veela. Fleur would still technically be a nosferatu, but her appearance, her mind, would be her own. It remained to be seen if the memories would return, or the fateful bond between the young woman and Harry.

That thought almost made her want to botch the ritual intentionally, on the off chance that such a bond, created from trauma, could still exist… It would be Harry's undoing if he was linked to such a creature.

Academically she knew it was unlikely. The Veela bond was one created between two bodies, rather than two souls and while Fleur's body was still more or less the same material, it had taken on an entirely different form.

She opened the door to the cell and stepped inside, quickly shutting the door and snapping her wand in a quick motion to light the magical lamps on the ceiling. She had to force herself to look at the creature on the floor in front of her. It was hard to look at a young woman she had once respected and see her in such a broken state. Dropping the emotion like a hot coal she raised her wand, and began the ritual again.

-:- Lime in this section -:-

When Hermione returned to their rooms later that night Harry was bent over his workstation in the corner, muttering imprecations at whatever mechanical challenge was vexing him. Silently she moved up behind him and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, nuzzling against him, revelling in the closeness.

His soft voice, scratchy from lack of use, washed over her, comforting and strong as always.

"Did it go badly?"

She was taken aback for a moment at the phrasing of his question.

"No, honestly it went well. Why do you ask?"

"You've still walled yourself off from me"

She gasped softly as she realized he was right, and the raspy quality of his voice was distress, not lack of use. Now cognizant of the _absence_ that was the lack of Harry in her mind she immediately dropped the stern mental walls that her concentration and focus on the ritual had created. Instantly he was back, filling up that gaping wound in her mind where he should be, soothing her raw nerves and saturating her mind with peace and comfort. Sighing softly she relaxed, unaware of exactly how tense and wound she had been until her muscles had uncoiled in his presence.

"I missed you."

There was a slight hitch to his voice, she should have noticed it before and she was honestly ashamed that she hadn't. Once upon a time Hermione had prided herself in being able to spot any of Harry's emotions in his otherwise closed demeanour, but it seemed that being linked to them nearly twenty four - seven had dulled that skill to the point where she couldn't even notice his distress when she couldn't simply cheat and pluck the feelings out of his head.

She didn't get long to self-recriminate as Harry's mental statement stopped her cold.

"I still love you."

She couldn't hold back the sob that burst from her throat at that heartfelt declaration, it was what she needed, a reminder that nothing would push him away.

"I'm sorry, I can't…"

"You forgot, after concentrating on something so hard for so long all you wanted to do was see me, hold me, it completely slipped your mind that you needed more then that, you needed this connection."

She merely nodded against his hair as her tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks. The intensity of the moment was a little much for her. Turning, Harry stood and drew her close into his arms, his hands pressing against the small of her back as she buried her head against his chest, his thudding heart reassuring her once again.

"Come to be with me love, I think we both need a bit of alone time."

She felt almost childlike in his arms as he swept her up and carried her to the bed, emotionally, physically and magically drained it was all she could do to help him get her out of her clothes and curl up under the covers. The moment he slid under them with her she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him and weeping softly in relief and guilt against his chest.

She was so lucky that he was hers, that he was so understanding, patient, loving, kind. She was so lucky that he was exactly what she needed in such states of incredible vulnerability. She loved him.

Softly he husked out a lullaby against the top of her head where it was nestled against his chest, she loved listening to his heart almost as much as his off-key singing. She was exhausted, but for some reason sleep wouldn't come to her in the inky darkness of their bedroom, his nude form wrapped around her not the usual aphrodisiac that it was to her, but rather a comforting presence, like that of a duvet; heavy, warm, safe.

She tugged him a top her as insistently as she could in her drained state and he obliged, shifting his weight over her, resting on his elbows and peppering kisses along her jaw and upper chest. Humming in contentment she found his lips, kissing him back with fervour. Her hips rising to meet his as she did so. There was a need within her, an ache to be held by him, protected by him, loved by him. It wasn't carnal, or lustful, but when his cock stiffened and rubbed insistently against her folds she hummed against his lips, revelling in the sensation of another part of him touching her, heavy and thick against her folds and stomach.

He grunted against her lips, his arms trembling with effort as he resisted the urge to thrust deep into her and she marvelled at his control. Her arms came up and wrapped around his hips, holding him close to her and encouraging him to lay himself atop her, resting his weight against her body. He did so carefully, lowering himself inch by inch until her breasts were crushed against his chest and his arms were around her shoulders, his chin in the crook of her neck and their legs intertwined. Cock pulsing hard against her belly.

Softly she whispered soft words of love in his ear as his muscles fluttered and shook with want and need, her own abdominals clenching in desire as they held one another, him his heart, and her, her protector. They rested in that pose for what felt like an eternity softly whispering to each other in the darkness, reaffirming their connection to one another and revelling in the intimacy of the extended moment. Eventually she felt him relax as his mind fell to slumber but for some reason Morpheus' realm wouldn't claim her that night and she lay awake under him, caressing his back and running her hands through his hair, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have this wonderful young man call her his own.

-:- Lime ends -:-

The morning dawned grey, the typical Welsh rainclouds rolling in with little warning and blanketing the plains in thick torrential rain. Harry woke on his back with Hermione curled against his side, her hands absently trailing over his stomach and chest. He opened his eyes blearily to see her gazing past him out the window, her eyes unfocused, clearly lost in thought. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips before withdrawing slightly to watch as her gaze locked to his, her lips curling in a soft loving smile and the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly in happiness. She closed back in to kiss him more deeply and out of instinct his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to his body out of a desire to be close to his love.

Eventually they parted and simply lay together, exchanging thoughts back and forth across their link in a relaxed, unhurried manner, simply enjoying the moment. Her soft words caught him almost by surprise, so engrossed in the depths of her mind was he that he nearly didn't register her surface thoughts.

"I scared myself last night."

He nodded slowly, waiting for her to finish her thought.

"I don't ever want to be that disconnected from you again, but at the same time…"

"You have to be sometimes?"

"Yes"

He scrunched his nose in annoyance at the obvious conundrum and voiced a further thought.

"You also miss being able to read me like a book."

She blushed violently and buried her head against his chest in embarrassment

"Yes"

This time, rather than the calm agreement, the word came out as a sqeak.

He stroked her hair absently as he waited for her embarrassment to subside. When it did, and she pulled back slightly to look at him again, he responded with a desire of his own.

"I miss being able to read you too. While our bond is a blessing, it's made us both a little lazy, we don't pay attention to each other physically nearly as much as we used to. Moreover, you're presence in my mind is something I'm beginning to take for granted. Your love, is something I'm beginning to take for granted. I don't like that. Every moment with you used to be special, cherished, now I can barely remember half of them without delving into my memories to dredge them up."

Her gaze softened slightly and he was certain that she understood.

"Me too… Last night… Having you hold me like that, cover me like that… It reminded me of days past when you were the only safety net I had against the dangers of the magical world, dementors, werewolves, basilisks, dark lords… Now I have this… army, out there ready to throw down their lives for me, it's made me complacent, lazy even. It's made me forget what's really important about our relationship."

He cocked an eye at that statement, he could pluck the reminder of her unfinished statement from her mind but he felt that she needed to voice this.

"More than anything else, I love you because no matter what you make me feel safe. No matter what the situation is; war, horror, terror, if you're with me, I can survive it, I can triumph, I'm safe. No one else makes me feel like that, no one has the ability to set me completely at ease with a touch, or a thought, or a kiss. I love you because no matter what you will always be my safe haven, the port I go to in a hurricane. I can trust you to never let me down, to be there for me always, to love me unconditionally, and annihilate anyone who threatens me."

He felt his heart in his throat at that litany, it was a powerful statement from such a typically independent woman, that she would look to him for safety, for succour. That he alone was the person who she needed, always. He forgot just how devoted to him she was sometimes, and vice versa.

He opened his mouth to reply, to give his own affirmation, his vow, but she pressed a finger to his lips, and a mental one to his thoughts.

"Shh, I know, I can feel it, you've always been better at expressing your emotions to me non-verbally, this is no different. I _understand_."

Something about the gravitas in her voice set him at ease, reassured him that she did in fact know exactly how he felt. Almost weeping with the emotion of it he tightened his hold on her, drawing her close to his chest where she snuggled in happily. It was her favourite spot after all.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Shall we stay inside today? Just… reconnect?"

"That sounds perfect."

-:-

The Potter elves had made a point of informing the rest of the regiment that it was an informal holiday of sorts, a time for the squads to relax and socialize, but Tracey couldn't do it, she couldn't sit and chat and play cards while the rest of Britain was at war, Daphne wouldn't have been able to either.

So here she was, out on a soaking tarp on the hills around the Potter manor, sighting downrange at the automatons Harry had set loose around the place. It was strange, yesterday if she had never seen another rain soaked tarpaulin again it would have been too soon, but now she was here, sitting in the filth and wet, shooting things. It was comforting, cathartic, a symbol of the war, a connection to her fallen friend.

As she worked the lever of her rifle and ejected a spent cartridge into the box beside her weapon Tracey reflected on past events. Seeing Susan reconnect with her aunt had been something of an eye opener. None of the Regiment had been home in over six months, not since last Christmas at the earliest, for some they hadn't been home since the previous summer, like her.

She hadn't mentioned to Susan or Daphne, or Harry for that matter, exactly how opposed her parents had been to her 'fraternizing' with the boy who lived. It had come as quite a shock to her when the Davis patriarch had disowned her in private; she still had the name, legally, but the rest? Gone.

She didn't miss her dad much; the man was a cold businessman who had little time for family. Her mother though… Lucille Davis had been Tracey's confidant for the longest time, and then to have her mother turn her back on Tracey... It had driven her to tears thinking about it many times.

She angrily swiped at her eyelids with the back of her glove before leaning back into the stock of her weapon, staring through the scope trying to find another target, trying to ignore the prickling feeling rising in her gorge.

The Regiment was her family now, Susan and Hermione her sisters, Harry her awkward sort of brother/crush/thing, she needed to sort that title out at some point. She felt bad for Neville, he was a good man and he clearly loved Sue, but Tracey knew that the buxom redhead just couldn't muster the same emotion for the withdrawn pureblood. They'd experimented with a relationship around March but it had disintegrated after Daphne's death.

Since then Susan had become much more withdrawn, only really talking to her (Tracey) and the command unit. As a result Neville had been pushed to the side and had eventually given up on a relationship; as far as Tracey knew preferring to simply love her from a distance, much the same as Tracey loved Harry.

She pondered on that for a moment, was she really 'in love' with Harry anymore? Or had that desperate crush simply devolved into a very deep familial connection? She didn't really care, he wasn't unattractive and she'd never turn him down if he was single, but Harry had found his soulmate and she'd never get in the way of that. Not when they obviously so deeply cared about one another.

Growling at her melancholy she squeezed a bit hard on the trigger, pulling her aim off and sending the high calibre shell whistling off into the rolling Welsh hills. With a sharp grunt of frustration she slumped forwards, leaning her forehead on one arm and simply lay there, contemplating where her mood was stemming from.

Bitterness? No, honestly she'd never been more content with her lot in life, if there wasn't a war on she'd be happy. Was that it? The war? Restlessness? Impatience maybe? She definitely wanted it to be over, and the raid she and Susan had performed was barely enough to whet her appetite. Was she bloodthirsty? Not really, while she wanted to get revenge for the fallen, and wanted to wipe out the Knights to keep her home safe, she wasn't eager to kill. Nor was she particularly eager to fight.

Rather she was sick of waiting, the tense nervousness between battles was the worst; always wondering where the next strike would be, who they would be fighting to defend, what the odds would be.

So far the odds had been stacked massively in their favour, even the Litch, while deadly, wouldn't have been enough to take out the regiment. As evidenced by the fact that despite losing Daphne they thoroughly annihilated it while fatigued from fighting a pitched battle. Only the battle of Hogwarts had been a fight they could have lost, and even then it was mostly just extraordinarily draining.

But these Knights… They represented a whole new aspect of the war, Valmortis' elite shock troops trained to slaughter both magical and mundane soldiers, not to mention the daemons they brought along for the ride.

Add to that the threats from the continent, a Veela army was nothing to sniff at after all, and things were looking decidedly grim. It was the first time after fleeing Hogwarts Tracey had truly feared for her life.

She sighed; there was no cure for this as far as she knew, not until the war ended at any rate. She'd just have to find productive ways to channel her anxiousness. The new recruits represented an opportunity, Dan had already talked to Susan and her about the likelihood that they would be training the next sniper squad or squads, she out of all the regiment had the most experience with the sniper rifle they had access to, and Susan was without a doubt the best spotter they had, if only through practise. Only Hermione and Harry were a better sniping pair then they were, but they cheated so it didn't really count.

The thought of having to train someone, being responsible for their success or failure in the Regiment, it was a scary proposition, and one that she wasn't sure she was ready for in all honesty. As an added point she and Susan would be moving from a purely sniper role into more of a retinue role for the command squad. With the new recruits they wouldn't have to be relegated to the sniping role in every combat, though they probably often would due to their proficiency, especially in open theatres.

But there was also a strong likelihood that they would be following the command squad into battle in close quarters, something she wasn't sure she was ready for. But with the Knights and their daemon cohorts the threat focus of the battles would change, no longer would they be applying pressure to beleaguered infantry, but rather fighting a pitched battle with experienced and elite veterans and their supernatural auxiliaries.

She thought about that a moment, no longer would she be isolated from the fighting, safe behind the scope of her rifle. She'd be in the middle of the melee fighting for her life. Was she ready for that?

Of course not, none of them were, but they had to make do, they would make do. The regiment had started out as a means to protect themselves, then others, eventually it had become a way of hitting back. Now it was an army, prepared to defend and attack, repel and assault as needed to wipe out the foreign invaders, for they were foreign. The primarily German knights of Walpurgis were an invading foreign force, as were the Veela fighters inbound from France, as were the Russians baring their teeth from Eastern Europe.

For her the Regiment had always been about Harry, keeping him alive, fighting his fight. Now it had evolved, she was fighting more for herself now, for Daphne, for their family. Set in those terms it made it quite plain. Yes, yes she was ready to fight for her life, for the lives of her friends. She could do little else and sleep soundly at the end of all things.

-:-

Time passed quickly and slowly at Potter Manor during the next couple of weeks. The Knights Walpurgis were quiet, the attacks that had typified Valmortis' actions over the last couple years had ceased completely. Was the snake coiling to strike? Or was there some other impetus behind the cessation of attacks?

The lack of action had the entire Regiment on edge, tempers were flaring and a couple of them had even threatened to leave. Things were so tense Harry had considered disbanding the Regiment and fighting the war himself. That kind of thinking was short-lived however, Hermione was always quick to remind him that Valmortis was probably holding his forces back in a deliberate attempt to break the Regiment up, or lull them into a false sense of security. The only thing they could do was train, wait, and prepare.

As Harry's birthday approached he got more and more nervous, the lack of activity coupled with the approach of Voldemort's favourite date to fuck with him (after Halloween of course) had him on edge and worried that something horrible was approaching. On the other hand Valmortis might not care even a little bit about his birthday, the war against Voldemort had been a very personal affair, the weight of prophecy hanging over them. But with Voldemort's death at the hands of the Knights Walpurgis everything had been thrown up in the air. Did the prophecy ever matter? Was Voldemort the dark lord mentioned?

He had no answers, and an even bigger question; would Valmortis target Harry and his the same way Voldemort had? Or would he perform a more traditional takeover of Britain, aiming for the nerve centres of society and politics? His actions to date held no answers either; he'd struck fairly randomly at muggle population centres, but also at country capitals. Aside from all of that the attack on Privet Drive had clearly been a strike directly at Harry.

It was maddening, trying to divine the motivation behind the invasion. Were they trying to actually take over Magical Britain? Were they searching for some arcane store of knowledge that could help them perfect their craft? The manor was shaken up slightly on the morning of the Tuesday before Harry's birthday when Sirius called the command squad and Seraphim squad together for a meeting.

-:-

Harry looked anxiously around the table; Hermione was at his side as ever, Parvati on his other side. Tracey and Susan were across the table from them and Sirius and Umbridge were at the ends, both holding pretty thick looking files. Lastly Fred and George were standing in the back of the room with four heavy looking cases leaning against the wall next to them.

He was very curious as to why they were being called together like this, especially after the cessation of hostilities that had occurred of late. What had happened?

He didn't have to wait long, almost the moment everyone was settled around the table Sirius began speaking.

"Late in April Mad Eye left for the continent, he was tracking an agent of ours who he suspected was either a double agent or simply a traitor. He tracked the agent known as 'Black' to Poland, specifically Warsaw. He last reported in a bit over two weeks ago, since then we've had no word and he's four days overdue for a check in."

His attention now grasped firmly Harry leant forward in his chair, his eyes locked on Sirius.

"That's Witch Hunter territory."

Sirius nodded at Hermione's words

"The heart of their territory, Valmortis hasn't left Britain, of that we can be sure, and it's likely that the entire Knights Walpurgis army is somewhere in southern England, they're likely using Riddle Manor as a base of operations. With them out of the equation it makes it highly probable that the reason we've lost contact with Mad Eye is because of the Witch Hunters. It's unlikely that they've killed him, he's a far too important source of intel for them to eliminate him out of hand. And without magical interrogation techniques it might take them decades to get anything out of him at all."

"So what do we do?"

His question was asked in a matter of fact tone but Harry was a little frightened; the Witch Hunters were no schoolyard gang and Mad Eye was a pro. Anyone who could have captured him was no one to be trifled with.

"We're going to send in a covert unit into Warsaw. Not to attempt an exfiltration, but rather to make contact with the Witch Hunters. We can't do so officially as it's technically a breach of the Statue of Secrecy to do so but… We're going to anyway. What intel we have suggests that the Witch Hunters have been tracking down the Knights of Walpurgis for decades now and they might be willing to join the war as a third party. At the very least their involvement would dissuade the Veela from outright attacking us; the repercussions would be more than severe for them if they ran afoul of the Witch Hunters."

Suddenly it clicked into place, and the realization of what Sirius was about to suggest did nothing to alleviate Harry's nerves.

"You're going to send us in."

With a grim smile Harry's godfather nodded once.

"Not all of you, but yes, we think that you four will be the best chance we have to make contact and end up with a resolution to the situation that benefits us more than not."

"Four of us?"

Another sharp nod

"You, Hermione, Tracey and Susan will be going in. Umbridge will travel with you to the outskirts of Poland where she will set up a communication's post to provide intel and exfiltration if things turn hairy. Parvati will be staying here. After you she knows the most about the workings of the Regiment and how you structure yourselves for battle. If something crops up while you're gone the Regiment will need her leadership to bring them through any engagements."

Harry shot a glance to Parvati who was looking decidedly pale. She met his gaze and seemed to gain a measure of resolve from the eye contact. After a quick breath she gave him an resolute nod. Hermione's approval was set in his mind, with side thoughts on how to preserve her progress with Fleur while they were out of country. So he turned to the last two members of the team. Tracey was fidgety but when he met her eyes there was determination there. Susan's gaze was more anxious than anything else. She'd known Mad Eye the longest, mostly because of her aunt but he was still an old acquaintance, if not quite a friend. She gave him an affirmative nod at his questioning look though, so he took that as confirmation of her participation.

Finally turning back to Sirius he gave a short nod and the Marauder waved the Weasleys over.

"The twins have been working on something, we figured you four could get first look at them."

Fred piped up first, his typically cheery and upbeat voice had a note of steel to it but the joking demeanour was present as ever.

"Right, we looked into the power requirements of the siphoning spell meant to deal with the daemons that the Knights will be throwing about. When we realized that it's kind of a big deal we did some speed tests and quickly made the discovery that even a whole squad working in tandem would be overrun before they could deal with even two of them."

Now George spoke up, identical in tone and cadence in every way, if Harry had his eyes closed he wouldn't have noticed the switch.

"So we started working on something that even the magically weakest of the Regiment could use to quickly incapacitate and destroy the smaller quicker daemons. We started off by converting the power siphoning spell into a runic array that could be activated with the same effect on contact. Issue from there was finding a suitable delivery system. Ordinary bullets are too soft to hold the etchings after impact and something thrown could easily miss and cause more harm than good."

Fred picked up the narrative again

"So we looked for something else that could fulfil the same role. Eventually Dan introduced us to shotguns, which, while awesome, are far too big for the Regimentals to carry around on top of their service rifles, packs, armour, etcetera. But a handgun would be perfect."

At this they hefted the cases up onto the table; each was made of lacquered wood bound in leather and was about the size of a shoebox, though perhaps less deep. A wave of their wands and all four cases clicked open to reveal four rather squat, nasty looking handguns. Fred pulled one of the weapons out of its case and presented it to Harry who took it with some trepidation.

"We first developed heavy tungsten rounds that were stern enough to maintain the runic array post impact. But they were too complex magically speaking for the elves to make en masse, so we had to look for a simpler solution. In the end we created solid lead slugs that deliver a titanium dart nestled in the centre of the slug. On its own the dart wouldn't survive impact with the runes intact. However lead casing collapses on impact creating an entry point for the dart to pierce into the target with minimal impact resistance. The runes on the dart then activate sucking the magic of the demon into the dart. Collect the dart afterwards and take it back to Victoria here so that she can destroy them safely."

Harry turned the handgun over in his hands and noted the extremely high calibre barrel. It was the kind of weapon that would take someone's arm off just by holding on to it when it went off. The muzzle must have been an inch in diameter at least.

"The guns themselves are breach loaded, you crack it open at the handle, load a slug, snap it shut and fire. With a bit of practice you can reload it maybe twenty times a minute. The recoil and sound are heavily suppressed via magic. You'll still feel the kick, but it'll be comparable to your rifles, rather than a tank going off in your hand. The slugs degrade pretty quickly in flight so you'll want to fire at fairly close range to guarantee successful delivery. Maybe twenty meters at the outside. That said the dart will fly true up to forty meters. While it won't be effective as a daemon killing round at that range you can still use it against anything that looks at you funny."

He reached into the case the weapon had come from and pulled a slug from the underside of the lid.

"Here's one of the slugs, they've got a thick brass cartridge that protects the firing mechanism from back blast. You'll need to remove it from the chamber after firing before you can load another slug. Questions?"

Harry spoke up immediately

"If the Knights and Valmortis are stationary in Britain why do we even need these?"

Sirius fielded that question with a snort.

"They're going to follow you. No doubt about it. The intel we gleaned from Susan's recording of the Walpurgis club get together indicated that they're organizing surveillance teams for all prominent members of the Regiment. The five of you all have your own two man teams assigned to you apparently. That's at least eight Knights who'll be following you to Warsaw, chances are they'll bring some pets with them."

Hermione had taken another of the weapons and was gripping it experimentally in her hands.

"The handle's a bit big; I don't think I'd be able to maintain a safe grip firing this thing as it is. Can you make it a tad smaller?"

Susan and Tracey concurred from the other side of the table where they were handling their own weapons. Fred and George nodded in tandem

"Absolutely, these are just prototypes, we have time to custom fit each of you your own weapon before you leave."

Harry raised his head and looked at Umbridge

"When do we leave?"

"In two days."

-:-

"I'm going to need to put Fleur in stasis."

"Oh?"

Hermione nodded against his chest from where she was sitting, curled up in his lap. They had retreated to their room while Tracey and Susan were getting their weapons fitted.

"I'll lose all the progress I've made with her if I don't; we have no idea how long this is going to take."

He nodded slightly and rubbed the small of her back with one hand.

"I'm scared."

She turned and looked up at him with concern at his statement. He felt her soft touch rustle through his mind and find the emotion, examining it carefully as she always did.

"Why?"

"Because they caught Mad Eye of all people. What's to say we're not just walking into a trap?"

She rubbed his chest absently with one hand while she mulled that over a moment.

"We could very well be, but we have to try anyway."

He frowned slightly at that, all evidence pointed to Mad Eye having been captured by the Witch Hunters, ideal bait to lure in some more witches for them to hunt. On the other hand Mad Eye's capture could be a way of getting them to the capital to talk without having to go through official channels. Abruptly he realized what Hermione was getting at, on the off chance that the Witch Hunters were using this as a way to call some kind of meeting they couldn't avoid the opportunity.

"Are we ready?"

"I don't know."

-:-

Fitting the handguns was a novel experience, they were instructed by the twins to hold the weapons steady in their hands while the twins created a magical cast of their hands. Then they were instructed to hold a standard service pistol in the same grip and another cast was made. The twins would then use the second cast to alter the first, and then use the first cast to magically alter the handguns. It went way over Tracey's head but it was pretty cool nevertheless.

They sat and chatted comfortably while they waited for the magical casts to do their thing and then watched the twins work their magic (literally) on the handguns, shaping them like putty to a more comfortable shape for the girls to grip.

When she held the customized handgun again it was very obvious that it was made to fit. She felt no discomfort whatsoever gripping the oversized handgun. When she held it in a firing positon it felt perfect.

Susan was clearly of the same opinion because she made quick work of breaking the breach open and gesturing for one of the slugs. A quick test firing on the range later and she gave her seal of approval to the newly minted daemon hunting weapon. Tracey took a slug of her own with a hint of trepidation, her sniper rifle had a smaller calibre than this beast of a weapon did and that kicked like a bitch. After firing it though she was astounded to find that it's kick was minimal, less than her rifle even.

Amazed she and Susan headed back for the barracks with their new weapons in their cases. Though the topic of their discussion was somewhat removed from what they'd just experienced.

"What are we going to do for Harry's birthday?"

"We need to talk to Hermione."

-:-

"I don't need you to tell me anything about the Regiment Master Auror Moody. We already have plenty of intel on that front: Thirty odd members, teens all of them but varying in age by a couple of years either side of the median. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are their leaders, although she might as well be called Hermione Potter with how closely she's bonded to the young Potter Lord. They're getting reinforcements soon from Hogwarts and they have a pair of adult liaisons to the Order of the Phoenix. Curiously, there's even a new born there now."

Moody couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, apparently Granger had finally given birth, about time really.

"No Master Auror Moody, what we need from you is information about Mr Potter himself. Speak to me of his character, his faults, his strengths, his dreams."

"No."

"Loyalty is admirable sir, but only when it's not pig-headed. We're here to help."

"No."

"You're going to be like this all night aren't you? Fine, I'll come back tomorrow, we'll try again then."

Grunting softly in annoyance Moody let his head droop as the door slammed shut behind his interrogator. He'd given up nothing of substance, just titbits of no import her and there to keep the feeding frenzy alive. The longer they interrogated him about the wild goose chases he led them on the longer they didn't ask him the important questions, the ones a skilled body reader would be able to divine an answer from just from his reaction to them.

Questions like: Are they going to mount a rescue? Yeah, that one needed to be avoided.

-:-

The docks of Dover were seeing more visitors of a supernatural nature. When before they had been stern men clad in black, these were beautiful women clad in soft pastel blues. Dozens of them coming off the same cruise liner, clearly on holiday.

If one was to focus harder on each of these women however they would notice an avian sharpness about them, and an ethereal beauty that took the breath away. They made no effort to hide in the crowds and instead seemed to revel in the attention afforded them by the defenceless muggle men.

The Veela battalion's Vanguard had arrived, and they were making quick work of the locals. Though only hearts would be injured today, later it would be bodies.

-:-

Hermione opened the door to the cell in Potter manor for what would be the last time for quite a while. What met her though was a scene very different from what it had been weeks ago. Now the room was well lit, with a desk and bed, books filled shelves in the walls and her subject was lounging almost nude on the bed with a novel resting beside her, her eyes hungrily devouring the text.

Fleur looked up when the door opened and the light of recognition entered her eyes. Her voice was soft and scratchy from lack of use, but she spoke

"Hermione"

The young brunette witch felt tears well up in her eyes. She hated having to hide Fleur's progress from Harry but the shade of Voldemort was still clinging to her with a fierceness she hadn't expected. While the young Veela's soul was more or less back in its home, Voldemort's soul refused to leave and occasionally she would lapse back to the mindless killer it had made her into.

The return of Fleur's memories had been halting at best. She remembered Harry in perfect detail of course, and Hermione came part in parcel with that, but she barely remembered who she was, or what her life had been like. And strangely she only remembered English so far, French had been lost to her. Perhaps that was Valmortis' influence. The man had been her keeper for almost a year after all.

She moved close and sat on the chair across from Fleur. It still wrenched at her heart to be in such close proximity to the girl who had nearly destroyed everything. But at the same time her friendly affection for the forthright Veela was hard to ignore.

Tempering all of that was the ritual that she had been performing for weeks now, day in, day out. It was a strangely intimate affair and it had forced upon Hermione a sort of empathy for Fleur's situation. She just wished she could talk to the blonde about it rather than beating around the bush.

"Hi Fleur."

"Me?"

"Yes, you're Fleur, remember?"

The Veela seemed to struggle with that for a second, battling with half remembered truths and murky lies to glean understanding about her. Eventually she slumped back against the pillows and started to weep bitterly in frustration.

"It's so close."

Hermione couldn't help but feel her own eyes prickle in discomfort at that. Part of her wondered how much of her memory loss was the disconnection of her soul, and how much of it was her mind shielding her from the trauma of what she had been through, and what she had done.

She drew her wand and with a series of sharp, snapping flicks rapidly put the crying girl into magical stasis. No point drawing this out, she'd just have to work harder to shield the information from Harry in her mind later.

Soon, she promised herself, soon she would tell Harry the truth, soon she'd let him know how much progress his old friend… the traitor, was making. Maybe his presence would jolt Fleur's memory.

But did Hermione even want that to happen?

Or would she be quite happy if Fleur never regained her true self?

-:-

AN3: I initially attempted to narrate the labour of John's birth but found myself ill equipped for the task. I was worried I would either play up the discomfort of such an event too much, or too little, and lose the effect of the miracle of childbirth itself. Instead I somewhat copped out and you got the aftermath instead. I might revisit this later once I've done more research/gotten some tips from a female author, but honestly probably not.

AN4: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It's on the crux of a lot of different things happening and I really had a hard time getting the events in the right order. Either way, here it is, enjoy!

AN5: Review Responses:

R-2 Sweet Tooth: Gah, I'm sorry this took so long to update. But I am glad that you're enjoying it so much. Thanks for the kind words and your time reviewing!

Pianomouse: You're quite welcome, thanks for taking the time to read/review

Pairingmatters: It was a very close shave between Remus living and dying, but Sirius was always going to survive, he's become a pretty integral part of the plot.

The Viking Stranger: Great to hear you've got your ear to the net (haha), I hope this is up to snuff!

Anotherboarduser: There'll be a lot more of Fleur from now on, and Hermione's definitely having conflicting emotions right now. So expect more of the same!

Theflowofmusic: Absolutely! At the end of Web of Lies the Regiment had succeeded in luring Voldemort into a trap in the ministry of magic, his followers were wiped out (bar Draco and Ginny who was dragged along), Fleur/Epine was captured by the Regiment and Valmortis/the Knights Walpurgis cut down Voldemort with a hail of killing curses. The world powers are starting to move on a war battered magical Britain; the French and Russians are both baring their teeth while magical Britain's traditional allies scramble in the background to ready themselves. Hope that's all you need :D

Travisevans: It's not the end! I promise! I'm just really superduper lazy sometimes and I don't end up writing much for ages.

Beyondthesea: Lots to think about. At this point it's gone beyond just Harry's supposed crimes, now the Veela are actively looking for blood, and maybe new territory, even if Fleur was returned to her family she'd probably just be conscripted into service.

Okay Folks, that's it for another chapter! Tune in next time for Chapter Three: Renewal, wherein its Harry's birthday, and he gets a ton of presents, from a bunch of different people. Some good, some bad, other's pretty scary.

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


	3. Renewal

AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

AN2: Sex warning! It's Harry's birthday and now that he's sixteen Hermione gives him kind of a huge present. Be warned, it's marked.

-:-

Chapter Three: Renewal

The small courtyard of the compound the witch hunters worked from was bathed with sunlight even this early in the morning. Its two current inhabitants, a lithe thin woman and a taller more muscular man, were simply watching the sunrise together in a favoured ritual.

The woman was perhaps in her late teens, eighteen or nineteen. The man appeared older, perhaps twenty three. She was slightly petite, with long hair dyed navy blue bound in a ponytail. His was short and blond. She wearing a form fitting set of dark combat fatigues, he a pair of buckskin trousers and a thick quilted vest over a strange shirt that laced in the front instead of buttoned. They were a study in contrasts but appeared perfectly comfortable next to each other. She even leaned her head on his shoulder as they observed the rising sun.

An observer would maybe have thought them lovers, or perhaps very close friends. While they were both of those things that was not their only bond: They were also a highly trained pair of killers.

Having been partnered together for their entire careers they worked in tandem, utilizing their vast contrast in skills to succeed at whatever job they were given. Now though, they were just a young man and woman, enjoying the early morning sun. The man brought an arm up to wrap around her waist possessively as he leans down to speak softly to her with a rich deep voice.

"We should head back inside. Hamlish will want us on deck for recon. We're expecting those kids in country soon."

His accent was strange, as if threaded together from many different other ones, with little bond between them. The result was a clean, measured voice that enunciated carefully and slowly. She grunted petulantly before rising gracefully to her feet, offering him a dainty hand.

"Come on then Victor. No point waiting about it."

Her voice was sharp, a side tone of some unnamed emotion that seemed awkward given their previous intimacy. It bordered on resentment, or condescension, but the smile in her eyes belied any kind of bitterness.

He took that hand firmly and between them they hoisted his lanky frame upright whereupon he politely waited for her to precede him to the main building. The most fleeting of smiles flitted across the sharp noble features of the young woman before she set off, a meagre acknowledgement of her affection for him.

A long suffering sigh is the only reply she gets as he steps down from where they had been sitting up on a ledge. He lands comfortably from the meter drop to the ground and only now is it apparent just how massive the disparity in their heights is. Even a meter below her walking level Victor's head is easily level with her midriff as they walk along beside one another. From the woman comes an annoyed statement.

"I hope they turn up soon. Keeping that old geezer fed is becoming a chore."

A soft chuckle and a soft spoken reprimand from the man;

"Come Lucrezia, it's not that bad, he's only made a pass at you what… three times?"

"Ugh, four."

His peals of laughter ring out across the courtyard in unrestrained mirth as they continued indoors.

-:-

Hermione had already been up for several hours when Harry finally stirred. The sound of his grunt as he stretched made her smile. He was often so relaxed in the mornings. She moved back to the bed and crawled in under the covers, snuggling up against his chest where she always loved to be.

"Good morning my man, happy Birthday."

She felt him smile against her hair as he kissed the crown of her head softly as he was want to do. His arms slid around her back and they simply held one another. He didn't speak for quite a while; instead they simply drifted in the ethereal space that was their conjoined memories. The love he had for her was always like a powerful torrent of emotion that washed over her, but today it was more of an ocean; endless, deep and unfathomable. Something about him had calmed recently, where before Harry's mind could be likened to a river, rushing, powerful, and directed. But, like his love, she could now more liken it to a lake, or ocean; still and content. His passion still lived under the surface of that ocean but the war had changed him, forced his emotions to become steadier and less impulsive.

They couldn't afford spikes of emotion in battle, especially when they were linked together. A stray thought or burst of emotion could become a fatal distraction for the other. Something that would destroy both of them in the long run. So they had become calmer, more reserved, and steadier. She dived into that ocean of feeling that he had for her. She revelled in it and allowed her more reserved demeanour to slip, to be replaced instead with the exuberant young woman who had been left behind sometime last year.

He joined her, his thoughts tugging her around in a strange, ecstatic kind of dance around their fondest memories. It was relaxing, freeing even, to let themselves go from the slightly austere personas that they had to adopt on a day to day basis and just be the teenagers they were: At least in the privacy of their shared consciousness.

Finally he spoke aloud, voicing his thoughts in an audible sense.

"I'm worried about today; I'm worried _he's_ going to do something."

She frowned, loathing the fact that Valmortis could affect them even here. His next thought startled her slightly

"Do they even know what kind of threat he is?"

She thought to ask who, but the answer was there in his mind; the wizarding public at large. She considered that for a moment, Valmortis had mostly (and probably very deliberately) targeted muggle population centres. His only attack of any real note, save for the battle at the ministry. Had been at Hogwarts, and that battle could easily have been attributed to Voldemort. It was very likely that the common witch or wizard had no idea exactly what kind of threat they were under.

Valmortis' MO was very different to the late Tom Riddle's, he didn't seek to strike fear into the hearts of those he fought, he let his minions do that for him, rather he struck at those who were unaware, muggles for the most part. This let him engage the military forces arrayed against him without them ever really garnering public support.

It put the Regiment in an awkward position, because while Valmortis was a very clear and present danger, they didn't have much tangency in the public eye. It was very likely that much of Wizarding Britain didn't fully understand exactly what the Regiment was, or that they'd been fighting for almost a year. The Daily Prophet had been mostly silent about the whole affair; Amelia didn't have the editors in her pocket like Fudge did. But she also didn't give them any information.

While this prevented any kind of public panic it also meant that most magicals were probably unaware of the threat.

This wasn't to say that Amelia was deliberately withholding information from the press. More that she didn't have much patience for them, from what Hermione understood at any rate, and thusly didn't interact with them frequently enough to form a coherent narrative of the events that had transpired. They might have to talk to her about that next time they had a chance.

Returning to Harry's original concerns she wordlessly kissed his cheek and rose from the bed, offering him her hand.

"We'll just have to keep our weapons close today."

His grim nod was the only concession he made, the only acknowledgement he made, that they were still living in wartime.

-:-

As Harry descended the steps in the foyer to head outside he reflected on how drastically their lives had changed since his last birthday: Then they were still essentially children, a little more well trained than some perhaps, but they were still concerned with childish things, homework, school, what their friends were up to, etcetera. The prophecy and Riddle aside, they had been, essentially, happy.

In the last twelve months however they had gone through some serious changes: Bodily for one both he and Hermione were much fitter and harder than they were then. Though Hermione made a point of keeping her diet up so that she maintained a softer figure, he was well aware that she didn't want to hurt her reproductive system in any way, though he wasn't sure exactly how body fat helped that.

They had the regiment to look after of course, and the war effort. They were both trained now, in firearms as well as wands. And they were leaders.

More than any of that though they were now both killers, Harry had honestly lost track of the number of mercenaries he had personally shot and killed, or slaughtered with his magic. The night after the Regiment's first engagement against living humans Harry and Hermione had wept together in their bed, clinging to each other like small children in a thunderstorm as the shared revulsion and horror at what they had done washed over them.

Now he was almost numb to it, between them they'd been able to shuffle away many of the more horrific aspects of those memories, locking them away behind shared mental walls. It felt like cheating sometimes, when the rest of the Regiment had to go through that horrible circumstance and they ran from it inside their own minds.

Perhaps that was another reason why there was growing dissent in the squads, a rising need to return to their families and put the Regiment behind them for good. It was Harry's charisma alone that was keeping them here now, that and the bonds of family they had forged together.

It was probably worth considering that none of them had any kind of holiday since they had fled Hogwarts. But how could he simply tell them to pack up and go home for holidays when another attack could happen at any time? Moreover some of them didn't even have families to go home to anymore.

Hermione's hand gripped his forearm firmly from where she was descending the stairs at his side, a wordless plea to put such thoughts behind him for the time being, to enjoy at least this one day.

With a force of will that was becoming second nature to him he wrenched his thoughts away from the melancholy and focused on the young woman at his side, _his_ Hermione. She had something planned for him, that was certain, but he wasn't totally sure what. Especially when her mind was so conflicted about something she refused to show him.

It was an interesting facet of their mental connection that they deliberately gave each other privacy. Harry wouldn't dream of encroaching on her private mental space when she wanted to be alone, and vice versa. Earlier in their relationship this hadn't been as apparent and they were more interested in revelling in their new found ability.

Time had tempered that exuberance into something a little steadier, the passion and excitement was still there. But now it had a solid shell of respect and patience keeping it gently in check. It was strange to be able to observe himself becoming more mature, he mused, the result of having two perspectives for any given event perhaps.

Hermione brought him to a stop in front of a door in the basement level of the Manor, he arched an eyebrow at her; this was Fleur's cell. She had a straight face as she pushed the door open, and immediately a gasp slipped from his lips.

"Fleur?!"

-:-

Hermione watched Harry carefully as he stepped into the, now well furnished, cell. His eyes were blank, and the skin around his mouth was pulled taught. He had instinctively shuttered their connection for a moment before letting it open once more; the sight of their old friend causing his emotions to fluctuate wildly. Fleur was in stasis still, and would be until Hermione released her from it. She had decided just that morning to give Harry the chance to reconcile how much progress the Veela had made with her recovery, his outburst was understandable, as she was clad in clothes similar to what she had favoured in her free time at Hogwarts, and the shadow of Voldemort was gone from her features.

Before where her mouth had been a distended, unsightly maw filled with rows of needle like teeth, now it was the same pair of bow shaped lips with a single set of perfect pearly white teeth. Her eyes were no longer blood red orbs filled with confusion and malice, now they were the same sparkling blue they had been so long ago.

The lines of scars and unsealed wounds had vanished from her features, and her hair was back to its platinum shine. All in all she was Fleur, not Epine, at least on the outside.

"She's regained some of her memories."

He turned to her then, one thick eyebrow raised in query.

"You came back first, no surprise there really. You were always the most important thing in her life. I came next, part and parcel of you I suppose, but aside from that very little. She knows how to speak English, French still eludes her. As does her family, her preferences, anything about herself. She has no memories of who or what she was before she became a nosferatu. She doesn't understand what she did."

The skin around his eyes tightened at that, and the motion was followed by a thick flood of discomfort and even fear. The surge of emotion lasted for barely a moment before concern and empathy swept it away.

"She remembers all the people Epine killed doesn't she?"

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes as she nodded.

"She can remember everything; the memories are disjointed apparently, like they're someone else performing the deeds. I guess that's fortunate because she doesn't carry much guilt, though that's probably because she has very little sense of self. I gave her a wand to practise with and it seems like she knows most, if not all, of what she did _before_ but I'd need to do more comprehensive tests to be sure."

Hermione turned to the frozen witch on the bed and sighed softly.

"Her whole being is about us now Harry. No matter how many times I perform the ritual nothing else comes back, it's like her soul is intentionally protecting her from the memories of who she was… How she betrayed you. It's a convenient fix for her, but I understand how hard this is for you, to see her like this again."

She fell silent, understanding implicitly that he needed to think for a moment, to repel the images that surfaced alongside her face.

"What do we need to do?"

Hermione couldn't help a wan smile from curling her lips, this was her man, ever loving, caring, helpful, and willing to set aside his own hurt to help others. That smile fell to a frown quickly though, as she considered his words.

"I don't think there's anything more we can do for the Fleur we knew. I hate to say it but there's every chance that she'll never get her memories back, and that she might just have to begin living again. Develop a new personality as it were."

She took a breath, knowing what was going to come next would be hard for them both.

"She still loves you Harry, the incessant need that the Veela bond created isn't there anymore, thank God, but she still loves you, or her memories of you at least."

She turned to him and cupped his rough cheek tenderly.

"You've changed a lot since those days."

He grunted under his breath at that and muttered

"It's been over a year, no wonder."

Louder he said; "Why is she still in stasis? If she's cured, then shouldn't we reintegrate her?"

Hermione stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him.

"Voldemort's soul is mostly gone, only a few shreds of connection remain, little more than what you experienced with your scar in fact, less even, because she won't share any physical connection to him. But there is still connection there, there's a chance that if she encountered him again, if he still exists…"

"He does."

The claim from Harry took her aback for a moment

"I'm certain of it. Whether it's these final tethers in Fleur keeping him bound to this plane or something else I don't know, but I can feel him still in the pit of my gut. He's out there."

She nodded thoughtfully, filing the thought away for later before continuing.

"If she encounters him again there's a fair chance the connection could be used to control her, or I guess potentially even resurrect him in the same ritual that revived him last time."

His face contorted in discomfort at that thought, and the memories that tried to surface before he ruthlessly quashed them.

"She should come with us."

Now that was unexpected.

"What?"

He pulled away from her gently so that he could turn to face her properly.

"She should come with us to Poland. There's no chance of us encountering Voldemort out that way with the Witch hunters all over the place and we can't simply let her rot here. I…"

He paused and Hermione could feel another 'Harry Potter Moment' coming on.

"I left her in that graveyard love. I watched her die there. This woman… whoever she is, or will be, hasn't hurt us. She deserves a fresh chance. What better chance to give her than to bring her with us and forge some bonds of friendship and memories to replace the ones we have of a friend lost to us?"

She couldn't help it; she threw herself at him and wrapped him in a hug, holding to him for dear life as the emotions roiled through her. She _loved_ this man. His arms came up and held her close, rocking them from side to side gently as they hugged. Eventually she pulled back from him and pointed her wand at Fleur.

"You ready?"

He took a breath, a heavy one, and nodded.

"No, but let's do it anyway."

-:-

Awareness returned slowly to her as she felt the spell fading from her bones. There was an interrupt in her memory; she'd been sad, dreadfully so, then nothingness, then she was back. A stasis spell? But why?

She opened her eyes and… there he was; standing in front of her with a pained look on his face that made her heart ache. Was she causing that? He was different to what she remembered; his eyes were older and filled with more pain than she could rightly comprehend. His body was taller, more muscled, and he was wearing a uniform. She was used to seeing him in his Hogwarts robes but this was different, more militant.

She abruptly became conscious of the tears on her cheeks and moved to wipe the away but a firm grip on her wrist stopped her. She looked up to see him kneeling in front of her. Slowly he reached in and brushed her tears away before leaning forward and grasping her in a tight hug.

She gasped in surprise but couldn't hug him back as he'd pinned her arms to her sides. She felt how tense he was, how hard this was for him to do. What had she done? He let her go after a couple of seconds and stood, sharing a warm look with Hermione before leaving. She could have sworn she saw tears on his own cheeks as he turned. Her eyes darted to Hermione with a questioning expression but the other girl simply sighed and sat next to her on the bed.

"You're coming with us."

She stayed silent, Hermione wasn't finished.

"We're going to Poland tomorrow, we're going to free one of our agents from an organization there. I was going to leave you in stasis till we returned. But Harry wants you there with us. To learn, and grow as an individual."

Her breath caught in her throat, Harry wanted her there with him?

"I think he's temporarily forgotten exactly what we're going to be wading into though, we're going into battle Fleur."

The name rang hollow, unattached to her save for the implication that Hermione gave it with her voice.

"So regardless of anything else you're going to have to train on the go. We can get a uniform for you and some weapons. But you'll have to learn to use them as we travel. Are you ready for this?"

No? Of course she wasn't ready. The last thing she remembered she was going to be in this room for a while yet, having her connection with Voldemort's soul broken. Now they were bringing her along on a combat mission? Her head was spinning.

She glanced at Hermione and realized the girl was actually waiting for an answer, so she spoke for the first time in the encounter.

"I… I guess. Do you think I'm ready?"

Hermione frowned at that and she realized immediately that the other girl didn't think she was ready at all. Something told her she would obey Harry's wishes though, regardless of what either of them thought appropriate.

"No, I don't think you're ready, I wish we had time to train you here, get the rest of the Regiment used to having you around before we left. But we don't have time, and you do need to learn to be a person again. So regardless we have to do this. You have to do this Fleur."

She frowned, why wouldn't that name stick? It felt so wrong. She could learn to respond to it at least, even if she felt no kin with it. Hesitantly she nodded

"Okay, I'll do my best."

-:-

"Harry!"

The cheerful bark of greeting surprised Harry as he crested the staircase leading towards the master suite. He turned to see Sirius climbing the stairs at a trot, arms spread.

"Happy Birthday Pup!"

Grinning Harry gave his godfather a gruff hug before stepping back a bit and grabbing reflexively at the present that was thrust into his hands.

"Had to get you something, thought you might appreciate this."

It was a relatively heavy box about the size of his head and Harry was momentarily baffled as to where Sirius had pulled it from, both his hands having been free a moment ago, before hand waving it with a mental 'magic'. He raised an eyebrow at the grinning man before pulling the lid off with a hearty tug. Inside, under some tissue paper, was a stack of bronze discs about the size of a medium sized plate.

Perplexed Harry took one of the discs off the top and examined it; there were a plethora of runes on one side, but the other was burnished smooth. Impatiently Sirius snatched the disc out of his hand and slapped it, runes down, on his forearm where it stuck fast.

"It's a magical round shield, for spellfire your sorcery shield will be fine but against physical attacks you might want something a little more sturdy. Here, watch."

He turned his arm so the plane of the disc was perpendicular to the ground and made a sharp circular motion. Immediately the enchantment on the disc snapped into action and it seemed to spiral outwards, becoming about four times its original size in a heartbeat.

"I've been firing bullets at these from one of the sniper rifles all week, checking and rechecking until it could stop them every time. You'll still feel the shock but it should prevent any broken bones, or penetration."

Harry took a moment to marvel at the magical contraption. Then he frowned slightly as he thought about what charms they might hold.

"I take it this is the original size, and you use a shrinking charm to keep them small. Then just concentric circles of impervious runes on the inside?"

Sirius made a so/so motion with his hands, the shield vibrating slightly from the motion.

"Sort of, there's a lot of fine charm work that went into it, notice the layers on the inside?"

He tilted the shield so that it's edge was facing Harry and, sure enough, there were many layers to the bronze in the shield, like an onion.

"Each of those has a different layer of runes for shock absorbing, deflecting and the like. There's even a layer to keep it from accumulating any liquid or grime upon its surface, as well as a set to keep it mirror smooth and free of scratches. That way you can use the shields to signal one another across long distances by reflecting light off the surfaces, especially if you can't afford to cast a communication charm for some reason."

He snapped his wrist in a contrasting motion to his earlier one and the shield subsisted back to its smaller state.

"Be warned though, they won't stop any spells. To get the magic into them that I needed to I couldn't put any magical resistance charms on them, as such they'll crumple like wet tissue paper if anything stronger than a cutter hits them. They're strictly for non-magical engagements. Or if you have to fight any demons in close quarters this should let you block their physical attacks. It's worth remembering that they keep their properties even in the smaller state, so if you're quick you can use them like a buckler to deflect a blow."

He shrugged then and put the disc back on the stack.

"There's about two dozen there. I'll make more as my free time allows and I've kept one for myself, but that should let you outfit a few squads of Regimentals. Hopefully it can save a few more lives. You can also give them to civilians in the field to give them a chance to survive in a firefight. They'll stop any spell once before breaking so you can even use them to deflect a killing curse if it comes to it."

He grinned

"I hope they help"

Slightly overwhelmed Harry gave the boyish man a much firmer hug before backing away, the box of precious discs still clutched in his hands.

"Thankyou Sirius, truly. Can we attach these to our belts or something for portage?"

The man scratched his chin in thought

"I really only intended the sticking spell to work on an arm, but there's no reason it shouldn't work on a belt, or leg for that matter. Might be easier to slap it on your upper thigh, but I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Harry stepped back from his godfather, the box of somewhat weighty discs cradled in his arms, he grinned.

"Thanks again, I should probably go get these to the barracks."

"You do that, and say hi to Hermione for me"

A quick exchange of thoughts later and Harry replied.

"She wants to know how we're getting to the continent, if you've figured out arrangements yet."

Sirius nodded, the turn of his face grim.

"You're catching a plane tomorrow at lunchtime. You'll be stopping in Bern, Switzerland, where you'll have to make your way to Poland on the ground."

"Cars?"

Sirius nodded.

"You and Hermione can both drive, buy a car second hand when you get in country, the four of you should be able to make good time."

Harry canted his head to the side

"Five of use."

"Five?"

"Fleur."

There was a moment of tense silence as a parade of emotions flickered across Sirius' face, distorting it through confusion, fear, sadness, anger, eventually he settled on annoyance.

"Why is she going with you? Don't you remember what happened last time you trusted her?"

His words were like a knife, spearing straight into Harry's heart. Suddenly Harry gained insight into this man, the man who'd been a prisoner for thirteen years: He had trusted once, in Pettigrew, and now traitors were less than filth to him. Harry stepped back from him again, and turned to head for his suite without a backward glance.

"I trust her."

-:-

Harry slammed the box of shields down on his work bench, tears obscuring his eyes.

Why did he trust her?

It was the most absurd thing; she'd betrayed him, become an undead against her will, and rampaged across the country killing dozens, hundreds even, of magical creatures. But he trusted her. He slumped forwards, his knees giving out as his body collapsed to the floor and he supported himself on his forearms against the desk as he let out a surge of emotion.

Time lost meaning for him as he wept bitterly against his sleeves; memories of her, how she'd been before, and after, _that_ event swirled through his mind. How happy she'd been with them at first, how she'd secluded herself away, tried to protect them from her sorrow. How contrite and shamed she'd been after her mind had broken free of the compulsion that Valmortis had struck her with.

She had been his friend before, he had trusted her.

She had betrayed him.

So why did he trust her?

Numbly he registered as Hermione's arms, and they could only be Hermione's with that intimate and comforting posture, slid around his waist, holding him close and tugging him to the bed.

He slumped down against the covers in a haze as she crawled onto the bed next to him and curled up, kissing his cheeks and neck softly over and over and giving him something to focus on that wasn't his complete mental breakdown.

Despite this the numbness escalated to a thick fog that blotted out all his thoughts. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think, he could barely even sense Hermione's presence in his mind. His whole body felt like it was packed with cotton wool; thick, dull, unresponsive.

It seemed to last for an eternity, just floating in a senseless sea of confusion and disbelief. Eventually he felt Hermione push him onto his back and snuggle into his chest, straddling his hips. Throughout everything, she was still there. He couldn't feel the bed beneath him, but he could feel her. He couldn't hear his own panicked breathing, but he could hear her soft words coaxing him back to her. He couldn't see anything, but she was there with him.

He used her as a lifeline, dragging himself through the mire of his own thoughts to the safety of hers. She welcomed him, as ever, her mind comforting warmth that enveloped his, drawing him in and surrounding him with encouragement and love. They didn't converse, or share sensations or thoughts, rather they simply existed together for several endless moments, recharging their minds for the conversation to come.

Eventually he came back to himself, it was a strange sensation; becoming conscious again. He'd never been lucid enough to experience the sensation upon rising from sleep, he doubted anyone ever would be, but he was now. Hermione had drawn his mind mostly out of his body, severing a lot of the chemical imbalance that was causing his emotional overload from his actual thoughts. The sensation of returning to that body fully, feeling his arms and legs regain sensation, was supremely disconcerting.

When at last he had full control of his faculties he took stock of his surroundings; the master bedroom, their bed, her arms. He drew back slightly, his body felt cramped and stiff, he needed to move.

Ever since he'd begun waking immobile and helpless Harry had become hypersensitive to any part of his body being in less than perfect working order. It was like a blaring klaxon in his brain that wouldn't let him think till he'd stretched and worked out the stiffness. Hermione understood, she'd occupied his thoughts more than once when such a mental imperative had taken over him.

He paced the room for several moments, his eyes occasionally glancing back to where Hermione was now sitting up against the headboard. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of concern and amusement; she'd laughed at him several times in lieu of his exaggerated stretching motions as he catalogued his body's mobility.

Eventually he slowed to a halt and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He'd avoided this long enough.

"I still trust _her,_ and I don't know why, hence my miniature panic attack."

"I wouldn't call that miniature, you were comatose sweetheart."

He grimaced, unwilling and unable to reply to that. Fortunately she had more to say;

"I trust her too. Though I've spent more time with her and perhaps have a stronger reason for such trust. Regardless she still has the same affection for you that she ever did. I'm still her friend, even if she doesn't know who she is yet."

His love huffed slightly and he couldn't help but smile at the somewhat adorable sound.

"Ostensibly her entire character right now is focused on us. She has no memory of family, self, friends outside of us. She has no idea that she's a Veela. I haven't really gotten around to explaining that somehow."

The chagrin in her voice was palpable. Harry understood; Hermione suffered from tunnel vision sometimes. She would focus on one problem, or solution, to the exclusion of all else. As such she could forget to deal with the peripheries of a problem, it was one of the things he helped her with, just as she kept him sane.

"Regardless she has no reason to turn against us from her own mind, and I've researched a spell that can block others from affecting her the same way Valmortis did the first time."

"We should really call him Krum."

-:-

The non-sequitur took Hermione aback for a moment before she cottoned on to what Harry was talking about. He continued before she could but in though.

"Much in the same way Dumbledore used to call Voldemort 'Tom', or we'd call him 'Riddle', we should get out of the habit of using his preferred name, take that power away from him. It's a self-appointed title, and a rather vain one at that. No reason we should pander to his vanity."

She grinned wryly at him in reply, waiting for him to get out whatever else was on his chest.

"So… She loves me, as awkward as that's going to be it gives us a reason to trust her. Mostly because it's everything she is right now. I take it she still knows how to be a human being? She knows politeness, manners and such?"

She gave a brief nod

"Then really all we need to do is be her friend. Maybe her love for me dampens after a while, it was artificial to start with anyway, and then we just have another friend. Nothing wrong with that."

Another nod, and a smile. Though that smile quickly became a frown as she opened her mouth to speak.

"We really should continue researching ways to return her memory to her though. Regardless of anything else she was out friend, she deserves better than this."

Harry's brow thundered for a moment, some memory flitting across it before departing whence it came.

"Is that even right though? She has all of Epine's memories, she's going to have memories from who she is now, whoever that is, and if we find a way to return her old memories those will be of yet another independent personality. What would that do to her?"

Hermione pondered that for a moment, what would the memories of three separate people do to someone? Three separate personalities vying for dominance?

"Well." She began, "The memories of Epine aren't detailed or fluid enough for her to really have any kind of ownership over them. So that's largely irrelevant. But I do see your point. It would be like if one of us died, physically, but their mind was stuck somehow inside the other's head. We'd drive each other mad."

He frowned for a moment in acknowledgement before wagging a finger at her.

"But surely our personalities would just merge like they do when we choose to voluntarily. Making one unique entity? Wouldn't something similar happen to Fleur?"

Hermione pondered that for a moment before shrugging.

"It's largely academic until we actually have a method of returning her memories to her. At the moment it's just hypothetical, perhaps we should resume this discussion once we actually have a method prepared."

Harry nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

"We should also talk to Fleur about it. It seems like playing God, talking about this kind of thing behind someone's back."

Hermione felt a headache coming on, sometimes her life was just too strange. Harry's voice brought her back to the present and she couldn't help but smile wanly at his offhand question.

"What's the time anyway? I'm famished."

Rising from the bed she took his hands in hers, pulling him close for a quick kiss.

"Let's straighten ourselves up before going and grabbing some food. I could use a bite to eat myself."

As they were getting tidied up again a thought struck her.

"What set you off anyway? I was focusing on talking to Fleur just before you had your attack."

His brow thundered again and she felt a flicker of anger shoot through him.

"Sirius, he came to give me a birthday present, which was brilliant actually remind me to show you, but we were talking after about how we were getting to the mainland. He explained our flight and how we'd need to find a car in Bern. Then I mentioned that Fleur was coming along."

He sighed and leaned back against the dresser, looking at the floor. The brief flash of anger had settled to sadness and she stepped into the circle of his arms, worry flickering through her breast at the look on his face.

"He demanded a reason why we we're trusting her again after what she did and I realized that the years in Azkaban have really broken him. Any kind of traitor, big or small, is instantly a non-person with him now. I don't think that he's ever going to be able to reconcile who she was and who she is now: To him she's always going to be the Veela that betrayed me, she's going to have Pettigrew's face for him, always."

On one level Hermione understood Sirius' position. She still had trouble dealing with the fact that despite Fleur's betrayal of Harry he was going to let her back into his life. Sometimes his forgiving nature was a bit too apparent. On the other hand the Fleur mentally preparing herself for the trip to Poland downstairs is a completely different woman to the one who died in the graveyard over a year ago. While Hermione was still more than a little angry and bitter at what Harry had gone through in the aftermath, she could also reconcile the fact that she couldn't punish this Fleur for the failings of her previous self.

The other side of this rather spikey coin was Harry's love of Sirius. The two had become fast friends during the previous summer, and he'd been a huge factor in Harry even being able to function in society again after his rape. In the absence of any real male friends for Harry outside her father, Sirius had been a breath of fresh air, and a person Harry could connect to on a casual and familial level.

For that man to then turn around and act so callously towards Fleur would always be a dagger to Harry's heart. She knew that he in his own sweet way blamed himself for what Fleur went through and the decision she'd had taken out of her hands. Irrespective of the hurt he'd gone through Harry had that fantastic quality that allowed him to reach out to the mentally dispossessed girl and offer her comfort and sanctuary, even a new life. The two opposing viewpoints might permanently damage the relationship the two men shared.

Hugging Harry extra tightly for a moment before stepping back she looked him in the eye and spoke in the most supporting tone she could muster.

"What you say to me if I did something like that?"

His panicked gaze reached her for a moment, his mind went blank and Hermione could almost feel the scramble in his thoughts for something to say. Eventually his mind settled and he spoke.

"He doesn't know that she doesn't have her memories. He thinks it's the same person."

Then it clicked for her as well. It wasn't so much that Sirius couldn't reconcile the new and the old, he thought it was just the old, the same betrayer. She nodded encouragingly at him.

"So you need to talk to him about it."

The smouldering look he gave her then made her knees weak and suddenly it was him supporting her against his chest, rather than the other way around.

"I'm going to thank you for that later love. But for now we should eat. C'mon, time for breakfast."

-:-

The regiment was tense that day, while everyone had a warm greeting and well wishes for Harry everyone understood that Valmortis, Krum, might use this day as a weapon. An attack now would be a direct strike against Harry, and his morale, regardless of who the physical target was.

More than that though a lot of them, especially the older years, the ones who didn't know Harry nearly as well personally, were wondering why they were even there. Why they were bothering to stay. While the Regiment was the first line of defence against Valmortis it was also, for the time being, largely unneeded. While Susan and Tracey had made a strike against the Knights Walpurgis the Knights hadn't retaliated, or attacked anyone in any way since the battle at the Ministry.

Indeed Valmortis himself hadn't really made any attacks against wizards, only muggles and some of the purebloods were wondering whether it was even a good idea to stop him. There was talk among the 'ranks' that now that Valmortis was out from under Voldemort's thumb that he would simply disappear into the woodwork, return to his own business and leave British wizards alone. He'd only responded with force against the Regiment when the Regiment had become a threat, and only then with mercenaries.

How short their memories were, that they forgot that it was Valmortis who had led the attack on the world cup two years ago, that he had been personally responsible for the army that attacked Hogwarts, that he had been responsible for the death of Daphne Greengrass, the daughter of a very prominent pureblood house.

Now Harry and his closest were travelling out of the country. Obviously the threat couldn't be too dire if he was simply leaving.

How short their memories, how short and how bitter.

-:-

Harry was really glad the _Tyranny_ was on their side. He was reclining in a loveseat in the library looking out across the grounds towards the training fields. Hermione was curled up in his lap, the top of her head resting comfortably beneath his chin, a book propped up against the side of the chair.

Tyrant squad was putting the tank through its paces today, keeping it hot in case they needed to deploy. He winced as the main gun fired, it's heavy calibre rattling the windows with the soundwave and downrange one of the reinforced automatons he'd created was torn apart, pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere in a brilliant shower of flaming metal.

It was truly a beast of war.

The turret swivelled and fired again, a shot tearing downrange and thudding into the side of a hillock, slightly off target. The dull 'krump' reached him a moment later and he winced again at the spray of dirt that blasted from the impact point.

The thick weight of his new pistol was pressed against his right thigh, which was in turn pressed against the back of the loveseat he and Hermione were currently occupying. It was a tangible reminder of exactly how much the Weasley twins did for the Regiment. The pistols might literally be lifesavers.

He'd taken a moment earlier in the day to talk to them, to get a gauge of the Regiment's mood, and it wasn't good.

-:-

"Harry"

"Boss"

"Benefactor"

"Specky Git"

"What can we do for you?"

The gimlet eye Harry shot the boys only made their grins widen and he chuckled under his breath as he leaned his forearms on the table between him and the twins.

"Just came to have a chat lads, no harm in it is there?"

"Sure you did"

"Just for a chat"

"While your gorgeous soulmate"

"Is sitting in the house somewhere"

"All alone"

"Without you"

"Un-kissed"

"Un-groped"

He decided to head them off there before they got progressively more lewd.

"Alright fine, the chat has a purpose. But it's still just a chat."

He raised a single finger to halt the brewing tide of mind bending twins peak.

"What's the mood in the Regiment?"

The twins looked at each other, a frown cresting their features.

"Why would you ask us Harrikins?"

"We're in here"

"Perpetually"

"Eternally"

"Restless"

"Sleepless"

"At any rate we don't know."

Harry waited for them to stop with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure, and Alicia and Angelina come here to spend time with you."

He shared a quick grin with them before continuing, they understood they were caught.

"Now try again, with less bullshit."

Fred's frown ratcheted up to a scowl and George sighed heavily before speaking.

"They're tired Harry, we all are. We haven't been home in months, and some of them are starting to consider deserting."

Harry felt a surge of anger well up before ruthlessly quashing it. Of course they were.

"It's a mark of how separated the Regiment is right now that you didn't know that to begin with."

Now it was Harry's turn to scowl, he knew exactly how distant the individual squads had been, especially since the Ministry. It was like they thought the battle was over, that they resented Harry for keeping them around now that Riddle was gone.

"Should we disband?"

Fred grunted in annoyance before speaking. It was a rare example of the twins making a sound that wasn't talking or laughing, they were typically much more articulate.

"I don't know if it's going to make a difference, we're all volunteers, and while we're staying till the end…" He looked to his twin for a moment before continuing, "Not everyone will. Sorry Harry."

He hung his head, sometimes it really sucked being the leader.

"What do I do?"

A calloused hand slapped his shoulder sympathetically

"I don't know mate. But I'm glad you're the one who has to decide not me. I'd bollix it for sure."

-:-

Now, sitting with Hermione, the problem seemed even harsher. How many of his friends, the people he'd essentially grown up with, were considering abandoning this fight? How many of them had become so dissatisfied with the cause, or disillusioned with his leadership, that they were going to leave innocents to the predations of the Knights?

It was a harrowing thought, that Neville, or Seamus, Pavarti, Ernie… That any of them might be considering it. A soft kiss on the underside of his jaw brought a smile to his face.

"What're we going to do love?"

That soft spoken question from the love of his life was all the support he would ever need. Not; 'what will you do?' but 'what will _we_ do?' that tiny difference in speech meant all the difference in the world to him.

"I'm going to go squad to squad tonight before we turn in, and remind them that they're volunteers, not conscripts. If they don't want to be here then there's no point demanding they stay. We've got reinforcements coming from Hogwarts in a month, we should be back from Poland by then and we can rebuild the Regiment. It won't be the same but hopefully it will be enough."

"How hard was it to say that sweetheart?"

"Too hard"

-:-

"You've got to be fucking kidding."

Harry grinned at Tracey's annoyed response to his offer.

"Firstly, do you really think I'd let the four of you go to Poland without me? Secondly, do you really think I'd abandon you? Ever?"

She huffed in annoyance and sat back against her pillows, glaring at Harry with a hint of real hurt.

"I'm not going anywhere Potter. Live with it. Neither of us are, right Susan?"

They both turned to look at Susan only to find her looking at the floor, a guilty look on her face. Harry felt his heart jolt, not her too.

"I was considering it."

There was silence in the room and Harry got up to leave, Tracey's face was sad but not surprised, she'd known. There was little he could say to that, especially with disappointment weighing down on his heart. Just as he turned to go she spoke again.

"I told auntie, and she threatened to disown me if I went through with it."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that and sat down, obviously she wasn't finished.

"She told me that this was the most important thing I could be doing, that the Regiment was pretty much the only line of defence between Britain at large and whatever horrors Krum has up his sleeve. She told me that she had never been prouder of me than she was when she heard that I was fighting for what I believed in, for what was right. She told me that regardless of how I felt, how tough it was getting, I had to keep going. Not for me, her, or even you Harry, but for the people we were protecting. That if I left now I was consigning countless people to horrible deaths."

Harry frowned

"She guilt tripped you."

Susan made a 'so, so' gesture with her hand

"More she verbally smacked some sense into me. And I agree with her now that I've got my head out of my arse. This is the most important thing I could be doing, and a bit of discomfort on my part isn't any match for what the general public might go through if we don't stop that Russian prick."

"I think he's Bulgarian actually"

"Whatever, he's a prick regardless."

He couldn't help but grin.

"So you're sticking around?"

A soft snort was his only response from her. Tracey responded wryly for both of them.

"I think you can take that as a yes Harry. Happy Birthday by the way, and tell Hermione I said hi would you? The girl never comes down to talk anymore."

He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably aware that she was staring at his lips, as if she might dart forwards and kiss him at any moment

"Yeah, sorry about that. She's been working hard at getting Fleur better and it's been draining her reserves enough that by the time evening rolls around she mostly just falls asleep. I'll see you two tomorrow. Sleep well."

Explaining Fleur's… return? Had been awkward but surprisingly straightforward. Both Tracey and Susan had been aware of Hermione's attempts to heal the witch and both had been friends with her before she'd died. They were going to spend some time with her tonight, getting to know her again, or perhaps helping her become someone to know.

As he stood to leave he thanked the girls once more and headed out into the corridor, letting the door close behind him. He'd gone to see them last, figuring they'd be the least challenging pair to deal with and he'd been right. Purepower squad was the big shock, all three of the boys were going to leave the Regiment before the rest of the Regimentals arrived from Hogwarts. He'd discussed with them why for a while and most of it boiled down to them being unsure that they were happy with the people they were becoming. They'd taken lives and it wasn't agreeing with them.

It was a facet of the dissatisfaction pervading the Regiment that Harry hadn't considered. Every single member had been through harrowing experiences, battles against undead and man alike. Liches, vampires, and all other manner of horrific creatures. They'd seen people die, friends and foes alike. Not everyone could handle that kind of trauma.

Fully they were going to lose nine of what was left of the Regiment: Leaving a meagre nine squads including the command squad, Seraphim squad and Tyrant squad. Medic squad, Thinktank and Busibodies were all more or less auxiliaries leaving only three squads to form a functioning fire team. Between the losses suffered at the ministry, the loss of Daphne and now fully three squads leaving the Regiment they'd been gutted. If they weren't getting reinforcements Harry might have considered telling them all to go home and be with their families, maybe join the ministerial effort and let the Regiment die out.

He was utterly despondent as he mounted the steps leading to the second floor of the Manor and Hermione's arms in the master suite. A bitter voice in the back of his head remarked that it was probably the worst birthday he'd had since his first year at Hogwarts, but he crushed the dissenter.

He had Hermione, he had friends in the twins, Tracey, Susan, even Fleur. They were loyal. He had his adopted parents in Dan and Emma, the arrangement was always weird and it made him slightly uncomfortable sometimes that Hermione was his adopted sister but at the end of the day it was mostly a formality so that he could be safe from the Dursleys, though they would be in prison for a long time yet.

He had family, friends and a soulmate. Everything else could be worked around. Really if he had nothing but Hermione he could survive, they could work out anything between them, so long as they had each other.

As he entered their suite however he was struck by a sight that promised to make this birthday the best he'd ever had.

-:- Smut from this point on. You can end the chapter here and not miss anything important if you want to skip the lemon -:-

A range of emotions run through teenagers before they lose their virginity. Some are nervous, others enthusiastic, excited, other still are a little too eager. For Hermione it was simply the natural next step in her relationship with Harry. One she'd been waiting for, for nearly two years.

They'd done a lot together, pretty much everything short of intercourse that most teens participate in. But this final step represented something a lot more permanent. Both she and Harry considered themselves close enough to husband and wife. They'd never have another, never separate, they had the rest of their lives together to look forward to; the war notwithstanding.

What were marriage vows beyond that? Beyond the commitment between two people to be one, in many respects they were closer and more intimate than many married couples would ever be. Taking this last step was something like a consummation of that bond. A confirmation between them that this was permanent, real, forever, that they would be with each other, and only each other, for the rest of their lives.

Once upon a time Hermione had considered adding Fleur to their relationship, but in the year since that day she'd discovered that she was _very_ monogamous; she'd never have been able to survive Harry being with another woman of his own will: Which was honestly awkward as hell when they were surrounded by so many women who wanted to get into Harry's pants. She'd learnt to live with it, mostly because they were all her friends too and she couldn't help gloating every now and then.

But here she was, curled up in their bed, candles strewn about. She'd felt incredibly awkward and silly, which was infuriating. So much of her relationship with Harry was easy give and take but in the bedroom he tended to lead these days, and honestly she had little idea what to do with herself.

She'd debated posing for him or wearing something slinky, but in the end she'd decided to just be herself for him; slightly romantic, honest, and bare.

The moment he opened the door she knew something was off. His magic, which he normally kept tightly bound and contained, was flowing off him in waves, his mind was closed due to his own intense concentration on whatever he was thinking about, and the door closed behind him with a sharp snap of wandless magic.

Then he saw her and she felt a jolt of heat go through her abdomen at the look of lust that passed through his eyes. She didn't need to look down to know he was hard as a rock but she did anyway, purposefully licking her lips at the sight.

Harry's ego had always been something of a fragile thing. The abuse he suffered at the hands of his biological family and the hot and cold relationship he'd had with the wizarding world had caused him to be humble to a fault. She didn't mind giving his ego a stroke every now and then, or any other part of him for that matter.

She dragged her gaze up his body, noting the deep movement of his chest as he breathed and the slight parting of his lips, before her eyes met his and locked there. All at once his mind opened up and she knew he understood exactly what she wanted, what she needed from him. He stalked forwards, that was really the only word that could be used for the almost predatory movement, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat as he let out that primal part of himself to _play_.

It was frankly unfair how he could make his eyes go all smoky like that, it was probably some aspect of his aura that was _still_ battering against her in heady waves of wild magic. His clothes peeled themselves off him in a rather breath-taking, and probably subconscious, display of his rather precise wandless magic, and as he reached the foot of the bed he gazed down at her.

Something passed between them, an understanding of sorts that while this was definitely a momentous occasion for them, he shouldn't act any differently to how he normally would with her. She wanted _him_ ; the man who she loved, the man who held her life and happiness in the palm of his hand. She needed her lover, her man, the soulmate she was prepared to spend the rest of her life with.

He beckoned her with a crooked finger and for a fleeting second she wondered exactly when Harry had transformed from a sexually timid and unaware teenager into an instinctual and headstrong lover who knew exactly what buttons on her body made her… sing. It wasn't like she was complaining though, and she didn't hesitate for a second to slide the covers back from her nude form and crawl across the bed towards him.

His hand met her halfway; curling under her jaw in a gesture of affection so familiar to her it was like the air she breathed. He applied gentle pressure and she followed it unquestioningly as he drew her close to his crotch.

She nuzzled against his cock where it lay flaccid between his legs and breathed deep of his musk, a shiver rand down her spine as his other hand went to her forehead before sweeping back through her tresses, grabbing a handful and tugging her harder against his groin.

He directed her in an almost playful series of motions, pushing her against his thighs and cock and forcing her nose deep into his pubic hair where she eagerly breathed deep of him again and again, her tongue darting out to taste his already slightly sweaty skin. Tasting of his scent, imbibing it and intoxicating herself on it like one might on the aroma of a full bodied wine.

He tugged firmly on her jaw and she opened it obediently as he positioned her beneath his hanging cock and slowly fed it to her, inch by inch. Even flaccid he was quite the mouthful and she had to relax her throat to stop from gagging as she practically swallowed his already hardening length. She knew from experience that even if she got him off now he'd still be more than capable of satisfying her later so she eagerly began sucking and licking at him, taking pride in the husky sounds of pleasure he let rumble up from his throat.

Being a leader had changed Harry irrevocably, where once he had been timid and shy he was now self-assured and confident, though she would never consider him arrogant or brash. It was a vital difference and the distinction was vital to the reason she was so happy, eager even, to let him feed her his cock and fuck her face with it till all she could do was swallow his seed. She trusted him, but more she felt safe with him. He would never hurt her, or push her more than she could handle, and she found that confidence unspeakably sexy; that he knew exactly what he wanted from her and was quite capable of inspiring her to give it to him.

He became more vigorous, thrusting his hips against her face even as he brought her head against him by the hand still fisted in her hair. The other hand had moved down her back to her arse as he leaned over her, thrusting into her throat with a surprising amount of control, she whimpered as he spanked her, hard, though the sound only came out as a muffled gurgle around the cock still lodged in her throat.

Her own hands were behind her back. She knew he didn't mind what she did with them but she derived an incredible amount of pleasure from simply allowing him to control her like this; relinquishing the carefully held control she'd striven for all her life to the man she loved.

Even as she thought about this he pulled back from her, his cock sliding from her mouth as she gasped for breath, her eyes locked on his, a smile at the corners of her swollen lips. He looked so tall from this angle, already taller than her by a fair margin that height was exacerbated to an extraordinary degree. His eyes were still dark and smoky as he gazed down at her, the hand previously fisted in her hair was now cupping her jaw again, a tender moment of affection to match the pride pouring from his eyes and mind.

As she regained her breath he advanced on her and she simply let him push her over onto her back, her hands still behind her, allowing her legs to flop against the covers to either side of him as he towered over her. He looked almost animalistic in the flickering candlelight, hard shadows throwing sharp relief over his toned and wiry physique. His cock was half in shadow but even then it still glistened from the saliva she'd inadvertently basted it with as he fucked her throat.

He settled his weight atop her, pressing her into the mattress and grinding his cock against her already dripping sex. She didn't even fight the needy little moan that slipped from her lips, she knew he adored the sounds she made as he made love to her.

Their gazes never parted as he lowered himself further; his chest pressing hard against her somewhat neglected breasts and she gasped at the sensation of her sensitive nipples being crushed against him. Then his mouth was on hers and she moaned into the kiss as he settled atop her, his body dwarfing her petite frame. Their height disparity was such that he had to keep his back arched to maintain the contact of both their lips and groins as he began to thrust and rut against her, grinding the length of his cock along her slit and against her clit.

It was frankly torture and she let him know by wrapping her legs around his waist, desperately trying to intensify the contact between them. He pulled back from her lips and moved his mouth to the shell of her ear, his tongue darted out and traced a wet line around the edge that made her shiver and moan breathlessly.

His hips pulled back and her breath caught in her throat as the blunt head of his cock pushed up against the sopping opening of her sex, prodding at her with a need that belied his exterior calm. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists where they had ended up at her waist, determined to let him take this at his own pace, to love her as he wished. A quiet but husky whisper reached her ear, his voice tight and strained from need.

"I love you, always, forever. I want you sweetheart, so badly."

She pressed herself up against him and whispered back to him with a voice laden with ardour.

"Then take me."

-:-

Harry couldn't help but let out a soft growl at her words and pulled back to lock gazes with her. Despite the rough play they were both romantics at heart and wanted to be watching one another as they took this final step. A twinge of nerves rushed through him at what he was about to do but she washed the feeling away with encouragement and a wave of heady emotion that threatened to make him lose focus entirely.

He shifted slightly, supporting his weight on his elbows either side of her head and leaned his forehead against hers, their eyes locked as he thrust forwards with his hips. He speared deep into her slick folds, aroused as she was there was almost no resistance to the intrusion and he sunk halfway to the base of his cock with the first thrust.

He gasped at the sensation. He was _inside_ her, she grunted beneath him at the feeling and her eyes fluttered closed only to snap open and lock with his again, a burning need there egging him on. The bond roiled with their combined pleasure and love as he pulled back and thrust once more, sliding fully into his soulmate.

Her hands came up from where they were clenched in the bedsheets and instead wrapped around his neck and shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he ground against her. His breath was already coming in short pants, nothing they had done before had prepared him for the slick velvety tightness that he was experiencing now. He moved closer and pressed his lips to hers hard, kissing her with the passion and need that was flooding his body and with the satisfaction and sheer _completeness_ that their union was summoning forth.

As he pulled back from the kiss she bore down on him with her inner muscles and he huffed in shock at the burst of pleasure that rippled up and down his cock. He nearly lost it there and then and simply let his head fall down to the crook of her neck where he proceeded to kiss and suck at the skin there.

She whispered to him in the soft light of the candles as she ground her hips back against his own insistent rocking.

"Does that feel good my man? Do you like being inside me? Fucking your future wife? The woman who will bear your children? Carry your heirs?"

She kissed his ear before continuing, the act so sweet it made a harsh prickling sensation well up in his eyes.

"I love you my man. Make love to me Harry, I need you. I want you. _Move_ "

He was in no state of mind to argue with her and immediately set about pulling back from the hot embrace of her sex. When he was halfway out he reversed direction, sliding back in with a powerful motion that sent jolts of pleasure through both their bodies as he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissing her cervix gently with the peak of his thrust.

She whimpered in his ear, her arms tightening around his back as one of his own slid down her body to wrap around her waist, the other remaining in place to support his weight. He bit down on her throat hard as he thrust again to keep from moaning out his pleasure and she bucked up against him as he did, meeting his hips half way with her own. He closed his eyes against the sensation and let out a husky groan against her neck just as she loosed a needy moan to the room.

"God Harry, yes, fuck me sweetheart. Fuck your lady."

His cock twitched inside her and he thrust again, pulling back before lancing deep inside her once more. She let out a little feminine grunt at the impact and her legs tightened around him as her hips ground against his, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock. They moaned together at the sensation and he wrenched himself back, only to slam back in once more.

He quickly worked up a sheen of sweat as he pounded Hermione into the mattress with a growing rhythm. She fucked him back just as hard, egging him on with titbits of dirty talk in his ear even as her hips met him halfway every time, and her muscles contracted around his cock as it speared inside her.

He was honestly in a haze, and would remember little of the actual act later. All he could focus on was the slick vice of flesh wrapping around his cock and the breathy moans, grunts and exhortations filling his ear. He wouldn't last much longer, of that he was sure. Her rather expert blowjob and the sheer pleasure and decadence of being inside her was rapidly overcoming any and all stamina he'd built over their sexual relationship together.

Maybe a couple of dozen thrusts into their coupling her moans took on a much sharper inflection and, recognising the signs, Harry bit down again on the soft flesh at her neck. Not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to push her over the edge of her impending orgasm. It didn't quite get her there so he pulled back enough to speak and husked into her ear.

"Come for me Hermione, my love. Come around my cock as I fuck you. Come for me sweetheart."

Somewhere in the middle of that she clenched around him and loosed a keening whine. Waves of pleasure obliterated all thought in either of their minds for a moment as her orgasm overpowered the bond and flooded both their minds with shocks of electric sensation.

He had no hope of keeping his rhythm through that and slowed to a halt, simply grinding against her sex with his cock buried deep inside her as they rode out the waves of her orgasm together. Somehow, miraculously, it didn't set him off too and as they came down from the high he resumed moving.

She panted in his ear as he picked up the pace, wanting, _needing_ , to come inside her, to complete their union.

One of her hands went to his hair, the other grabbed his arse and squeezed hard. Her voice reached him, breathless and loving.

"Thankyou sweetheart, God I love you so much. Come for me sweetheart. Please Harry, come for your lady."

Her soft words in his ear and her breathy little grunts of pleasure every time he bottomed out combined with the still vice tight confines of her pussy and the rippling heat therein were more than enough to shove him careening over that edge.

He lasted only a few thrusts before slamming once, twice, three times deep inside her before remaining there, grinding against her with little thrusts as his cock twitched and recoiled. He barely felt his cum pumping out of his cock as stars erupted behind his eyes and once more pleasure filled the bond. He gasped and shuddered, his whole body clenching and flexing with his orgasm. His arm around her tightened, pulling her abdomen against him so tightly he'd wonder in future how he didn't fuse them together with some kind of accidental magic.

Sated utterly he collapsed atop her and it was all he could do to remember to keep breathing as the aftershocks of their union fluttered through his body and their bond.

-:-

Hermione had never felt more complete as she did in that moment, her man was atop her like a blanket, his cock still filling her centre with his cum right up against the opening to her womb. It was fortunate that it was the wrong time of the month for her to even be remotely worried about getting pregnant because in that moment she honestly wanted his child. She wanted to give him a family, to complete the circle of their love with the next logical step.

The hand on his arse swept slowly up his body to cup his shoulder and she moaned happily into his ear as his cock twitched in the aftermath, sending little shocks through her body. He let out a shuddering breath and despite the exhaustion in his voice what he said made her laugh gaily.

"Remind me why we waited for this again? Because honestly I think we just cockblocked ourselves for over a year."

-:-Chapter/Smut end-:-

AN3: Okay, firstly yes it's been a damn long time since I updated. It happens sadly especially when I see this series getting much less attention then I had hoped considering the length and (I hope) quality. This particular chapter has been kicking my arse too. I had originally planned for Harry to have one on his paralysis fits after the encounter with Sirius but it felt too forced, so I had to rewrite around three thousand words in the middle of the chapter to make it work. As such it took maybe a month longer than it needed to.

AN4: Okay the smut's in now and you'll see that the general direction it's been moving in has started to come to a head, Harry's growing up and with a partner who trusts him completely he's becoming a man equal to his magic; primal, dominant and powerful. For those of you who that bothers, or might be bothered by the idea of the man being the man in the relationship… Why on earth are you still reading this?

AN5: Review Responses:

Pairingmatters: She's not strictly alive. That's all I'm going to say for now. It'll come up again later.

The Viking Stranger: Lots going on huh? Hopefully this answered some of your questions, the rest will have to wait for next chapter I'm afraid, whenever the hell I get around to writing that .

Anoutherboarduser: Nice to know you're still with us. Thanks

Beyondthesea: The Witch Hunters do know an awful lot don't they? Strange that. I hope this cleared up some of your concerns. Also yes, the twins are amazeballs.

Noble Korhedron: Here you go!

Shadow Dragon: I'm leaning on the side of Magical for John, but him being mundane has interesting opportunities. I'll think about it. There's definitely nothing set in stone there.

AgentBrisbane: Firstly: Neat name, secondly: Thanks very much for your words, and though we've already discussed it I'll say here publically that you can use my work if credited for non-profit works of entertainment.

Guest: Thanks for your words. Hope this meets standard.

Okay Folks, that's it for another chapter! Tune in next time for Chapter Four: Poland, in which our teens head to Warsaw searching for the esoteric Witch Hunters. What exactly will they find in this country steeped in ancient magic?

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


	4. Poland

**Chapter 4: Poland**

An: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

An2: Sorry this took so long to produce, but here it is anyway.

-:-

Chapter Four: Poland

On a commuter plane bound eastward for Central Europe a teenager and his companions took their seats in various states of nervousness and excitement. There was a muted roar of semi-private conversation surrounding Harry as he sank reluctantly into his aisle seat, Hermione on his right and Fleur sitting in the window seat. He _hated_ planes, there was a confinement about them that made his burgeoning sense of paranoia spike horrifically; there were no easy exits, and soon they would be tens of thousands of meters above the ground.

Hermione's warm, soft hand settled over his on the armrest and he settled slightly back into the seat. There was little choice, travelling overland after a sea journey was out of the question, not least because of the time involved. Already they were looking at at least a week of travelling, maybe more. Magical travel of course was impossible, they'd never make it over the channel without being apprehended by border wards.

His lover bussed a kiss against his cheek before getting herself settled in when she felt his mind calm from the high torsion nervousness it had been projecting through their bond. This whole operation felt wrong to Harry, his gut twisted into knots at the prospect of what they might be walking into.

Moreover he was already having second thoughts about bringing Fleur with them. What the fuck was he thinking when he said they'd train her on the go? She was a liability till then. Thank Merlin they had nearly a week's travel ahead of them to get to Poland. They'd have some time to train Fleur in the basics before they were embroiled, but nothing more detailed. Fortunately she still knew something of combat from her time under Valmortis' thumb. As distasteful as it was to think about the man had saved them some time in that respect.

He glanced to his left to see Fleur looking at him with a shy gaze, caught, he grimaced before speaking.

"I'm surprised how calm you are Fleur. I can't stand planes and I figured this might almost be a bit too _new_ for you."

She tilted her head to the side and smiled, it was such a reminiscent gesture from… _before_ that he felt his heart leap in his chest at the memory.

"I'll be alright Harry, I do worry about you though, you look like you could rip the hand rests right out of the chairs you're so tense."

From his other side he heard Hermione's chuckle, as well as felt it reverberate around his mind. A moment later her small, soft hand rested against his, lightly caressing the backs of his fingers, gently requesting that he relax.

He wasn't sure if it was just the security aspects of the plane that were bothering him or if it were also being up this high with zero control over his flight. Either way his muscles were almost vibrating with the tension packed into them as they crossed the English Channel.

His lover's soft voice reached his ears and he turned to her, smiling tenderly at the sight of her despite anything else.

"Calm Harry, we'll be fine, I promise. I'm here sweetheart."

It was almost magical, the way her simple words made him relax, like she had imbued her voice with some spell. Taking a deep breath and shaking the tension out of his arms, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting her voice wash over him.

"That's it love, we'll be in Switzerland before you know it."

That was one thing he was still unsure about, their travel itinerary. The four teens and Fleur wouldn't simply be able to fly straight into Poland, they'd be picked up at the airport and executed just for being magical. The witch hunters in the country were viciously in control of the ex-communist country and magical people weren't even allowed to enter.

They couldn't land in France, the country was on alert to pick Harry up and detain him, Germany was out for similar reasons. But Switzerland, as always, remained neutral in this conflict, and would allow them temporary passage, if they even registered that the five of them were magical at all.

So they would fly to switzerland, secure a vehicle, and then travel overland through Austria and the Czech Republic. There was an Order contact in Prague who would give them their instructions for crossing the border into Poland, and then they would continue their trek to Warsaw. All things going well they would be able to fly out of the country, but they were prepared to flee via land routes if needed.

That meant six days of travel overland just to get to the country they were looking for. Two days in Switzerland as they acquired a vehicle and retrieved their weapon drop, and then two days in each of the other countries as they travelled onwards. It would be the longest journey Harry had ever been on, though Tracey and Susan had arguably experienced worse in their trek to the nest for their attack on the Knights.

Either way it was going to be at least a week, probably two, before they were home. Anything could happen in that time.

Grunting in discomfort at the very thought he did his best to settle down and sleep through this abhominable flight.

-:-

Nearly five hours later the five Regimentals checked into two rooms in a middle-of-the-pack hotel in central Geneva. Harry immediately set about lining both rooms with magic deadening runestones that would prevent any magic from leaking out, allowing them to cast within the rooms without being detected by the Swiss Ministry. They for all the world appeared to be four teenagers on holiday with a twenty-something tagalong/chaperone. But they were witches and a wizard, and as such needed to prep their living spaces.

Harry tended to release magic absent mindedly when he did a number of activities, including simply just relaxing, and even such emissions as that would be enough to trip any magic detectors the Swiss Ministry had primed. During travel out and about Harry would wear a runestone around his neck that would encase him in a deadening shell. In times of danger he would need to take it off but for just wandering around it would prevent any magic escaping his body.

The other side of the need to deaden magic was that they had to prep their weapons on this side of the flight, including adding the enchantments that the Weasley twins normally applied. The five rifles, and five pistols had been sent ahead of them in a sealed case via freight with the appropriate documents for transporting arms between two countries. It was done at the corporate level and they would have to collect the weapons and modify them themselves.

That had been three hours of training from the twins as they instructed Harry and Susan (arguably the second best enchanter of the group) how to transfigure the weapons and apply the enchantments before doing a secondary transfiguration to lock the patterns. The pistols were the single shot, high caliber experimentals the twins had been working on, and each was hand crafted for its wielder.

Finally they might have to significantly alter their appearances at each country change. They had four sets of different documentation; passports etc, one for each country, with a different picture for each. The plan was to get as far as they could with their current disguises (Harry even had blond hair) and only change them if they were caught.

When Harry's task was complete Hermione set about converting both rooms to their needs, expanding them internally and creating workbenches for Harry and Susan to work on. Finally a 'Do not Disturb' sign was put on each door to deter housekeeping.

They congregated in the girls' room, as it was larger, and sat around the coffee table, finally able to relax for a moment. Once he had calmed from the tension of the journey Harry spoke up.

"Right, we've got four hours of daylight left. Susan, Tracey, Fleur, you three need to establish a better connection with each other. Our cover has all of us being friends for years, we all need to be able to maintain that. Go see a movie or something. Hermione and I are going to go and eyeball the drop site and act like a couple on holiday for a bit. Above all else we have to appear exactly as we wish, a group of friends on holiday. Meet back here in…" He checked his watch quickly, "Three hours exactly, we'll go out as a group and get dinner before returning back here."

He patted his pocket, making sure his wallet was still there and watched four others do the same motion around the table.

"Everyone got your wands?"

Even Fleur nodded, she'd apparently had her wand with her when she was captured but she knew little of how to use it. Most of her magical talents were innate now, rather than learned.

"Mobiles?"

Sirius had managed to secure a set of blackberries for them with international zoning. No one was exactly sure if they'd work as intended but it was worth a shot, worst came to worst…

"Medallions?"

Finally each of the four raised a thin copper medallion that was attached to some body-part or other. Hermione and Harry both wore theirs about their necks, Fleur had hers on her belt and Susan and Tracey both had bracelets. They were a panic button, if shit hit the fan they could activate a number of functions on them including portkeys or emergency messages.

Harry personally checked that he had a disc shield from Sirius sitting within easy reach on his pack. They had done some testing with the devices and found them capable of stopping even a main gun shell from the Tyranny. Though only one. They were a valuable piece of protective equipment and he would be loathe to leave it behind.

"Okay then, good luck and…" He got up, hugging each of them as he did spoke

"Be safe"

-:-

Geneva was a rather beautiful city. The lake was glassy smooth on a calm day like this and the gentle hum of civilization was far apart from the hustle of London. Hermione laced the fingers of one hand with one of Harry's, revelling in the simple pleasure of touching her love, as they wandered around the city. The streets were mostly quiet at this time of day but soon they would be flooded with foot and road traffic as the majority of jobs closed for the day.

But for the meanwhile it was like they had the city to themselves as they made steady progress towards the office building where they would be able to pick up the weapon drop. The weapons would be broken down to their component parts and stored in separate cases each having come from a different 'company'. They needed all four cases for any of the weapons to work.

All of the squad would have to participate in reclaiming the drop tomorrow, for now Harry and Hermione were just getting an idea of the local layout and what their ingress and egress routes would be. It was the first time the two of them had done anything remotely similar and both were a little caught up in the glamour of it all. They were still teenagers after all. Hermione, in her own way, was being a little too enthusiastic, making a map of the place in her head with so many coloured lines Harry couldn't follow them all.

"Love, we should all go in together as a group, five young people going into the same office building at different times would look sketchy as hell. But if the give of us go in together as a group, acting like the teenagers we are, we can just pass it off as going to see someone there, or some other normal activity."

She deflated slightly at his side before darting up to press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"You look after me so well."

His tender, loving smile took her breath for a moment, sometimes it took her aback when she felt the full force of his love on her.

"Always sweetheart."

She might just have to reward him for that tonight.

-:-

"You know there's a village in this country called Grindelwald?"

Susan cocked her eyebrow in disbelief at that tidbit from Tracey.

"You're kidding."

The brunette shook her head merrily, Susan thought she was enjoying the experience of travelling a bit too much.

"Nope, it says right here; 'Grindelwald', there's even a Grindelwald hotel."

Susan huffed in exasperation. Of course Tracey would find the one village on the map that shared a name with a dark lord.

"You know we're on a mission right? We need to be focused."

Susan's rebuke was meant to mollify the petite brunette and Tracey's merry laugh was unexpected.

"At the moment we're meant to be acting like teenagers, and getting to know Fleur better. That's our mission Susy, you need to lighten up and relax a bit. You're more tense than Harry."

Susan winced, there was the rub, Harry. Neville had said something similar before she left.

Tracey didn't miss the wince, or the downcast cant of her eyes, the soft, concerned tone that came from the normally bubbly brunette was full of solicitation.

"What happened Susy? You're not normally this tense, did something happen before we left?"

She was vaguely aware of Fleur, looking slightly lost, walking beside them with a concerned expression on her otherworldly beautiful face. How the unshackled nosferatu could feel concern was beyond Susan but there it was.

"Neville broke up with me. He gave me an ultimatum, either stay in Britain with him, or go on this trip with Harry."

She couldn't hold back the sob that wrenched it's way free from her chest. She couldn't help loving both of them, she couldn't help that Harry trusted her to fight by his side, or that Tracey needed her here, or that Hermione trusted her with Harry's life. She couldn't help that she had a purpose in this war, or that she _wanted_ to keep Harry safe.

She had to be here, and when Neville had forced her to choose it had ripped her heart out.

Tracey's arm wrapped around her waist and she leaned into the shorter girl with another chest-heaving sob. Fleur closed ranks with the two girls and her warm embrace was surprisingly welcome.

"I didn't want to lose him, but I couldn't not be here."

Tracey's hand moved up and down her back in little circles as she cooed soothingly into Susan's thick locks.

"You'll be okay sweety, he'll come around."

She shook her head angrily

"No, he left."

"What?!"

Susan nodded with tears now streaming out of her eyes.

"He gave his resignation to Harry this morning, spat at him too. He… I don't know, there's so much resentment there I can't even wrap my head around it. He left us Tracey, he left with all the others. I love him, I was with him, I… I gave myself to him, and he just left. Like it meant nothing."

Tracey's voice had a tinge of wisdom that Susan couldn't place.

"Harry and Hermione are special Susy, in that Hermione can let us love her man from afar without being jealous, and Harry can support us and love us without, you know _loving_ us. They're older than their years, mature beyond what any boy can compete with at this age. And Neville is just a boy, a prejudiced boy who grew up believing purebloods were superior. Even if he didn't follow the dogma he had to have seen your love of Harry as a smack in the face."

She took a breath and Susan nodded against her shoulder

"Nevermind all of the blood politics he probably just couldn't handle the fact that you loved Harry as well. I don't know if anyone will ever be able to Susy. I leveled with that a long time ago, maybe you need to as well."

Susan's sobs redoubled as the three of them stood in the middle of a Genevan promenade, lamenting her loss.

-:-

Tracey hated the way she was feeling right now, her friend was heartbroken and the dominant emotion running through her head was satisfaction. For her there would never be another man. She couldn't imagine loving someone other than Harry. Susan had tried, and she'd been burned, it felt like karma to Tracey who had quietly disapproved of Susan's actions.

It was strangely vindicating to know that Neville had been unable to handle Susan's complex feelings, that he was a lesser male. Which was weird and discomforting, never before had Tracey thought she was a spiteful person but the proof was in the pudding as they say.

She masked her discomfort by keeping Susan close and maintaining a constant stream of supportive chatter through her fuge of conflicting emotions.

It would be a long night as she tried to sift through these feelings. Hopefully the movie would help.

-:-

They collected the weapons drop without a fuss in the morning and returned to their rooms in the hotel to organize their haul. Meanwhile Fleur and Hermione had gone to the nearest auto dealer to purchase themselves an inconspicuous hatchback.

As Harry spread the four cases out on his and Hermione's bed in their room he did a mental catalogue of the implements stashed therein: Two service rifles, one sniper rifle, one minimi, and a handgun for Fleur if they should get the chance to teach her how to use it. Two magically expanded magazines of ammunition per weapon. It was enough for their mission, but only just. The minimi probably wouldn't be used except in dire circumstances, neither would the Sniper rifle. Realistically speaking only the specially crafted sidearms they brought with them had any strong chance of usage.

The weapons were in perfect condition and only required minimal assembly, the muggle repelling and notice me not wards sewn into the lining were just enough to have the various security measures the muggles could concoct ignore the priceless enchanted weaponry. Now that the unit had their weapons, and hopefully transport, they could get on the road.

Susan and Tracey quickly reclaimed their weapons and assembled them without delay. Each girl was near anxiously checking their respective rifle for any kind of imperfection from the freight. Fortunately the oil that Fred and George had developed for the regiment maintained the metal of the weapons, automatically sealing nicks and scratches, burrs and sprags. And the weapons were too well secured for anything harsh to have happened to them.

Harry's own weapon, a fairly standard service rifle, honestly hadn't seen much use. Aside from training he had fired only a single magazine from the rifle. He preferred to wield his wand in combat, feeling far more comfortable firing spells than bullets. He had an ocean of power floating between Hermione and himself, it was hard not to give in and draw upon that power at any given moment, it was potent, addictive and seductive. Very little chance to control it would he have had without his soulmate.

If he didn't have Hermione, and this power was his alone, he would easily be seduced by the intoxicating, visceral energy of it. He felt almighty when it was flowing through him. If Voldemort had even a fraction of this kind of power as a teenager Harry could understand how quickly he fell foul of the dark arts. This kind of power was usually only wielded by those of a dark persuasion, or partners in magic who could compliment one another and remain in the light.

Shaking off the introspective mein Harry turned back to the task at hand. He hoped Hermione and Fleur had the same level of success with their goal.

-:-

Switzerland was a strange country linguistically. In the north French and German were both spoken fairly interchangeably, but in the south italian was also thrown into the mix, creating a strange verbal hodgepodge that could be a challenge to wade through. Fortunately however for Hermione, the vast majority of the Swiss also spoke English.

"Are you kidding me? Six thousand? For this hunk of crap? I can barely tolerate FIVE!"

The surprisingly suave Swiss salesman shook his head and wagged his finger in a sort of 'naughty naughty' motion that made Hermione's hackles rise.

"Little miss, you look like you can afford a lot more than six for this one, I'm coming down from seven already you're not taking me any further."

She could pay six, hell she could pay ten if she had to, but Hermione was inherently competitive and bartering just came naturally to her.

"Look, five and a half, and you fill the tank. Or I'm walking away right now."

She knew this car was only worth four, three after purchase. The markup on this lot was insane but it was out of the way and, annoyingly, the cheapest for miles around. The size didn't matter, they'd be a tight fit anyway and Harry, being the largest of all of them, would be driving. She would ride shotgun and the three girls would go in the back. So the little Peugeot 405 was just enough for them.

They'd found a sweet spot with this salesman, he was still making a profit on the car, not as much as he'd like for sure, but a profit nonetheless. What she hadn't counted on was Fleur. Hermione still hadn't gotten around to teaching Fleur about her Veela heritage, something to be done on the road, but all of a sudden she regretted that selective reticence.

"Sir, please understand that I am rather fed up with you, my friend is offering more than enough for this… car. And you are being quite piggish about it."

The words would have been a dealbreaker on their own, the price would have ratcheted way up and they'd have had to pay more for offense alone. But it was the subtle layer of magic that her voice held that did the real damage. Abruptly the suave and confident salesman was a remorseful mess, nearly on his knees he was on the verge of grovelling when Hermione clamped her hand down hard on Fleur's upper arm.

"Sir"

The single word was spoken sharply and with no small amount of impatience, the spell was abruptly broken and he looked up, now wary and confused.

"Five thousand? Cash?"

He nodded, understanding that something had happened then, but was unsure how to address it. Perhaps he just wanted to get the transaction behind him and was willing to ignore the gift horse's mouth.

She drove them away from the lot a few minutes later with a lighter wallet, but a heavier heart. Fleur was subdued and looked a little scared at what she had done.

"Hermione?"

It stuck the brunette abruptly that Fleur's accent was gone, she spoke English flawlessly like she had been all her life. That wasn't the concern here though, the concern was Hermione's negligence.

"Fleur I'm so sorry."

"Hermione?"

Fleur's voice was laced with worry now, a touch of fear even. Hermione soldiered ahead, hoping to push through this as painlessly as possible.

"When you came back… as you are. We weren't sure if your heritage would rear it's head or not."

She glanced sideways to see a look of horror on the young woman's face, this wasn't going to get any easier.

"Before you… Before you died you were, are, a veela. Veela are magical creatures, technically speaking, that have powers of persuasion over men specifically. They… you, can infuse your voice with your innate magic to bend men with weak minds to your will. You'll be happy to know that Harry is utterly immune to that and any other kind of persuasive magic."

She took a breath, utterly unprepared as she was to explain this Hermione was beginning to digress a bit and she wanted to remain on track.

"You did that just now, instinctively, with that poor man. He really had no hope of resisting and you made him putty with your power."

The next bit was a little harder to explain.

"But… you shouldn't wield that power just because you can, firstly it's cruel, he had no comprehension of what you were doing, or how to resist it. Secondly he's a businessman, he needs to make some kind of a profit on those cars to make a living, if you'd continued talking to him like that he'd have given it to us, and that's not the road to him being able to feed himself.

You might wonder why I even care that he has something to eat, that his business continues despite that absurd markup. I care because it's the right thing to do, it's the right thing not to cheat him out of his profits, especially when we're not poor at all. If we don't consider the lives of other people we might as well just join Krum and get it over with."

The confusion was evident in her voice as Fleur asked;

"But you were arguing with him, demanding a lower price. You wanted it for four thousand, not five."

Hermione fought the urge to growl in frustration, explaining bartering to Fleur was not at the top of her to-do list. It was so strange; on the one hand Fleur knew how to be a human, she walked, talked fed herself, maintained her hygiene unprompted. But in some key aspects of understanding she was woefully lacking. Were these the things that made up a personality? Or was some other magic at work here? Hermione had no answers.

"I was bartering with him, working him down from his markup down to a price we could both agree on. I might have been slurring his product, but he and I both knew that there was a price I wanted, and a price he wanted, and the only way for both of us to get even half of what we wanted was to meet halfway, to compromise. It's more of an art than a discussion honestly, some people who are very skill can argue someone up or down from what they considered a hard limit…"

She trailed off at the eager but mostly glazed look on Fleur's face. She wanted to learn, to understand, but the girl with the displaced identity just didn't have enough context to make sense of what she was saying. It would be a long road towards any kind of definite resolution here. Why on Earth Harry had decided to bring her along Hermione would never know, and she spent most of her time inside his head.

"Sorry, we've digressed a bit… Veela. You have these powers of persuasion, but at the same time you can be… are… were, bound to someone… to Harry. Ordinarily a Veela can voluntarily bind herself to her mate, it creates a powerful and instinctual bond that promotes trust and fellowship between the two parties, it can even allow thoughts and emotions to pass between the bonded pair, similar to how Harry and I are bound. It helps Veela keep their mates over the course of their lives. But Krum… Valmortis, perverted that bond, he forced you to bond with Harry by means of a spell. We've protected you from that now but at the time it caused both you and Harry a great deal of pain."

Now Fleur looked deeply uncomfortable, there was a furtiveness about the expression that Hermione didn't fully understand.

"There's something else to consider. The ritual I cast on you so frequently only broke the shackles of Krum's control, and Riddle's soul. But it did not return you from the dead. You are still a nosferatu. You could exist, as you are now, for the rest of your life. But the desire to claim the power of others will be strong, especially if you go into combat again, there are going to be a lot of broken souls floating about on battlefields that you have to resist the urge to claim."

She grimaced, aware that she was literally asking the girl to deny her nature.

"That way leads darkness, and none of us want that for you. That kind of power is addictive and toxic, you can't be you, with that kind of violence within you."

God help her it was going to a long drive back to the hotel.

-:-

Drama aside they quickly got everything packed into the boot of their new sedan and within the hour they were on the road to Liechtenstein. Hermione was sitting shotgun with a map-book spread across her lap as she fed directions to Harry who was hammering down the Swiss motorways with a natural calm that she imagined he must have on his broom. Driving was a little more complex than flying but from what she understood Harry found the same simple joy and freedom in both acts.

She'd seen plenty of people drive over the years. Her mother and father both had very different styles; Her mum tended to drive very carefully and with exacting precision. It was always a mechanical process, her father on the other hand was quite an aggressive driver, taking gaps in traffic that would make her gasp with fright or push the boundaries with acceleration and speed limits. Harry's driving was like his flying, smooth and shamelessly adept. He made flitting between the multiple lanes of traffic look like an art form. Hermione privately thought that he could be a professional race car driver if he wanted to. Though she suspected he'd quickly become bored with anything other than off road.

Her thoughts flashed unbidden back to that morning however, when he had needed her again to aide him through the paralysis that habitually struck in mornings, especially after he travelled. He paid a great deal for the grace he displayed in life; to this day he still had horrors locked away in his mind that she wanted to help him with but he refused to let her see. Even to her his barriers were still so fortified that she could, to this day, barely see his emotions without their link.

That thought made her frown, even before they had this link, when she had to use her insight and intuition to divine Harry's mood, she hadn't ever been precise about it. They both liked to joke that she could read him like a book, but it had never been that simple, it was always more of a guess and a hope, never a definite understanding.

Her train of thought was abruptly derailed when, out of the blue, Susan spoke;

"Harry has this thing got a radio? We could have some music at least."

Hermione reached for the radio's controls and started fiddling with the dials.

"What do you like Susan?"

"Get us some rock'n'roll"

And just like that they were teenagers again, enjoying a trip across a foreign country together. For a while at least, Hermione could leave dark thoughts behind.

-:-

Liechtenstein was a minute principality couched between Austria and Switzerland. Magically speaking the country was owned by Austria but the Mundane half of the government liked it's independence. Strictly speaking though the Liechtenstein magical government was an independent entity and regularly flaunted any kind of control Austria tried to place on it. Internationally speaking that made it a political dead spot where anyone could get away with basically anything.

The ICW had tried repeatedly to enforce laws on the tiny country but because of its 'ownership' by Austria all the laws had to be placed there, and then extended to Liechtenstein. As one can imagine this only made Austria angry and Liechtenstein cared not one whit. Why didn't Austria crack down on the lawlessness that went on in the tiny country? Because many of the politicians who might action such crackdown were neck deep in the backhand dealings.

This all combined to create an excellent location for an ambush, well away from any kind of international attention the Knights Walpurgis would have free reign to attack and kill the five travellers. The opposite of course was completely true, they were anything but defenseless, and had every chance to repel any kind of attack thrown at them. Depending on size of course.

That did nothing to abate the general level of tension that was flooding the teens and Fleur as they drove through the minute country. Fortunately that took less than an hour and they were free with no troubles. Either the Knights were leaving them alone or had no knowledge of the op. The car's occupants were hoping for the latter.

-:-

Austria was a beautiful country and Harry almost regretted that they couldn't stay longer. There was a certain old world charm that made Harry want to stick around and explore. But as it was they were on a timer so they checked into a motel in northern Vienna at around eleven at night. It had been a long day of driving and no one was feeling particularly up to talking so they all turned in for the night. But even with Hermione's warm body curled up in the circle of his arms he couldn't find sleep, something inside him was restless.

He considered chugging a sleeping draught; he needed to be alert tomorrow to drive. But ultimately dismissed the idea, he didn't need to drug himself, he needed to get something off his chest. Gently shaking Hermione in his arms he coaxed her awake.

"Sweetheart, wake up love, I need to talk."

He genuinely envied Hermione's ability to sleep basically anywhere, when she was tired she would sleep. He truly struggled with that art, and was a light sleeper in general. But she had mastered it. When at last she rose from the depths of her dreams and game him a vaguely alert smile he started on his thoughts.

"This has been entirely too easy. We know the knights are chasing us, watching us, we know the German and French magical task forces are on our tails. Why have we gotten this far unmolested?"

She shook the sleep from her mind with a flick of her bushy head, waking up fully to his question so she could answer him properly.

"Maybe they're hoping we'll hang ourselves on this goose chase. One the one hand contact with the Witch Hunters is a breach of the statute of secrecy. One the other hand contact with them is usually followed by incarceration in their dungeons, followed by death. They may simply be avoiding getting involved unless they have to. The other possibility is that they have no idea where we are. We entered Switzerland by Muggle means, we travelled by car, we've used no magic. There's nothing that we've done that would have alerted them to our location. We might be in the clear."

Harry hemmed and hawed for a moment, her thoughts were logical, as always, but something was missing. The feeling in the pit of his gut that had served him so well in the past was flaring up now like a summer thunderstorm. Eventually he tried to put voice to his feeling.

"There's something going on here, I don't know what it is but I'm going to remain alert. Maybe that's all I can do."

Hermione hummed in agreement against his chest and, eventually, they both drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow they would cross the border into the Czech republic.

-:-

There were four major border crossings between the Czech republic and Poland, but from what information agents in Switzerland had passed to the Witch Hunters Victor and Lucrezia knew that their marks would be entering the country at one specific point. So the two mercenaries had staked out a hide atop a hill overlooking the crossing and had a pair of observation scopes set up on tripods, pre-aimed at the site.

Whenever any kind of car travelled that road they would carefully inspect it from afar to check its identity before returning to what was rapidly becoming a sullen silence. They had been camped for a day already and Victor's inner worries were rapidly getting the better of him; These children used firearms, guns. Victor and Lucrezia were used to fighting wizards and witches who had wands and, occasionally, melee weapons. There was a very real possibility that Lucrezia could be hurt in the coming confrontation and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

They sat in silence for maybe another half hour before the slight young woman at his spoke with her characteristic bluntness.

"Are you worried?"

He grimaced slightly, hiding the action behind a hand as he feigned scratching his nose.

"Yes, I'm extremely worried."

He paused a moment, organising his thoughts before speaking again with that same slow measured tone, now tinged with a hint of fear.

"They're spoiling for a fight and with one false word you could end up riddled with those ridiculous high caliber rounds they use, or worse. I…"

He huffed, unsure of how to finish his mini rant.

"You've always been away from the fight, safe, I can't remember the last time you were actually in any real danger. It terrifies me to be honest."

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as if Lucrezia was watching him. But when he turned to look at his partner her eye was fixed resolutely into the scope. She did however shrug her shoulders, her tone matter of fact.

"Well, at least if that happens, chances are that both of us will die."

Now someone who didn't know her might think she was being passive aggressive or even outright superior about the whole thing. But he understood the ungainly message; She knew that living without her would be hell for him and on the off chance that she would be killed, he would probably have already lain down his own life trying to protect her, at that point there would be nothing either of them could do. It would be inevitable.

So he understood, that wasn't to say it was very comforting. He frowned, staring down his own scope, and spoke with a hint of annoyance.

"Who thought it was a good idea to give these kids guns in the first place?"

-:-

Training Fleur as they travelled was both easier and harder than anyone expected. On the one hand firearms training would have to wait, but she was still very intelligent and remembered all of the spells and forms she had learned… before.

As a result she was something of an auxilliary, very potent magically but she couldn't fight as the Regiment normally did with firearms. That was largely irrelevant on this mission as all five travellers agreed the combat, if any, would likely be in close quarters. But it would need to be remedied once back on British soil.

The hardest part, for Harry, was having her nearby. Sometimes he would lock eyes with her by accident and be struck with the full force of the betrayal she had inflicted upon him long ago. But the emotion was dull, blurred by time; this wasn't the same Fleur who betrayed him, but the wounds, however faded, still existed. Like the scars on his back the memory of the hurt she had inflicted was still very real and tore at him on a regular and brutal basis.

He thought back to that year. How, amidst the pain and trial, he had been happy. He and Hermione had found one another, had explored their relationship and grown together. He had grown as a wizard, and as a man. Lastly, he'd formed a friendship with Fleur, one so strong it had nearly threatened his relationship with Hermione. And then she had…

Sometimes just the thought of it threatened to break him. Hermione's presence in his mind, her soothing weight of thought, cleansed the pain from him and let him think clearly again. Glancing across to the front passenger seat he shot her a warm smile, she was always there when he needed her.

The Triwizard Tournament, farce though it was, had brought him closer to Hermione, and Fleur, but it had also taught him a great deal about his foe. Where Voldemort wielded fear like he wielded a wand and used his name like a weapon. Valmortis far preferred to work from a position of secrecy and deceit. In the first task he used a bomb to try and kill him outright, an action that would have thrown their world into a tailspin.

In the second task Valmortis staged Sprites of all things in the black lake. Ostensibly they were there to kill every single one of the hostages and champions but they had only managed to slaughter Cedric and his hostage before he, Harry, had wiped them out. Placing them there had necessitated the butchery of the mermish village, though honestly Harry had since learned that the mermish were something of a brutal race as it was. They probably gave as good as they got.

The third task… the third task he had turned one of his best friends against him. Had broken his mind, and very nearly broken his relationship with Hermione. Had returned the most powerful warlock on the face of the earth to life.

And then, scarce twelvemonth later. Valmortis had struck that warlock down.

What was his game?

Harry knew exactly what his game was. Britain had suffered under the shadow of Voldemort for decades. And, abruptly, that shadow had loomed over the isles, over a hundred muggles had died, Hogwarts had been attacked… but that was it. The one attack launched on the ministry had failed, thwarted largely because Valmortis and the Knights had struck down Voldemort themselves.

A pensive memory from their perspective could show them infiltrating the battle, positioning themselves around Voldemort, then slaughtering him, ending the battle, destroying the horror that had haunted Magical Britain.

Valmortis had put himself in the position of a benevolent liberator. Strategically speaking the next step would be for the Knights to come out of hiding just as the Veela or Germans attacked and repel those armies. The Knights would become a protecting force, until daemons started crawling out of the walls and floors to butcher the populace.

It was a disgustingly efficient plan, one made even more virulent by the way of making the one defensive organisation that could counter it, the regiment, utterly ineffectual. The sudden cessation of activity after Voldemort's demise had given the public a false sense of safety, of peace. Few, if any, knew of Valmortis' true identity, or even that he was a being to be feared. They couldn't even go public, because there was no evidence that he was a continued threat, they couldn't even prove that he had been a part of Voldemort's war effort.

In another time where Valmortis was a virulent threat Harry wouldn't have gone on this mission. He would've had Sirius set up a strike unit from the Order instead. But activity was so scarce in Britain that even he felt like he could be away on this mission without threatening the life of his friends back home by his absence.

The roads in Eastern Europe were genuinely terrible and he'd been battling with them for the last hundred kilometers or so. But the bump in the road felt wrong the moment the front wheel mounted it. Without even a second thought he let his magic loose and it formed a thick barrier around himself and the other occupants of the car as an anti-tank mine exploded beneath the car.

All of a sudden the world pitched and, while they were protected from the blast and shrapnel, the momentum of the car flipping over nose to tail was enough to pitch both him and Hermione through the windshield.

There was a brief moment as they hung in midair above the car where they had a bird's eye view of the carnage unfolding beneath, before they plummeted back to the ground. Susan practically exploded out of the left side of the car, the door skidding away across the ground, before it had even stopped rotating backwards through the air. Tracey executed a rather more elegant dive through the shattered window and rolled to a halt with her pistol in one hand and her wand in the other.

Fleur, who hadn't had the kind of training that the girls had, wasn't ready for the sudden evacuation and ended up trapped in the wreckage of the car as it slammed onto it's roof and began to slide down the embankment to the side of the road. None of the teens had time to go after her though, because the moment they all hit the ground a hail of bullets started to rain down around them, accompanied moments later by the sound of automatic weapons fire.

There was zero cover on the left side of the road which abutted onto farmland before merging with a wooded copse where Harry assumed their attackers were hidden. The right side of the road, where the car was currently drifting downhill, was a muddy embankment that ended in an irrigation ditch before transitioning to more grassy farmland.

Harry had landed awkwardly on his ankle before rolling onto his side. The angle he had been involuntarily launched from the car had made it impossible for him to right his landing, even with magic. As a result he was now swearing colourfully at his (he thought broken) ankle as it wrenched from side to side during his uncontrolled slide down the muddy slope. Hermione was not far behind him having landed on her side before rolling down the hill due to sheer momentum. Susan was better off having landed on the flat side of the road and was covering their 'retreat'.

Tracey was in an altogether worse situation. She'd dived out of the car's window while it was parallel to the ground, and so was now crouched on the open road. She'd managed to throw herself flat to the ground but was pinned down to either side by bullets sparking off the poorly maintained tarseal.

Harry grunted in visceral agony as he slammed into the side of the car, which was now wedged into the irrigation ditch. His ankle twisted violently and he nearly blacked out from the pain. Panting he twisted in place and just managed to grab Hermione's wrist as she tumbled onto the car, preventing her from rolling straight into the water. He could feel through their bond that she'd broken a rib or two in the fall and her whole head was roaring with pain.

Why the fuck were they being shot at anyway?

-:-

Victor was normally a very calm man, or at least he was on the surface. He'd perfected that 'there is literally not a fucking thing that can rattle me' mask that some mercenaries have. He still had that mask now, but internally he was panicking.

One of the Witch Hunter's advance scout units in Austria had sighted a pitched battle between the Potter's contingent and an unknown assailant. Though judging on the territory Victor could guess who the attackers were. They were literally hundreds of kilometers away and had no way of aiding the teens. Well, there was one way.

Immediately Lucrezia spoke from his right, even as he came to this conclusion

"They can handle themselves."

He turned a gimlet eye on her

"Do the thing."

She turned a frosty gaze back at him.

"This is neither the time nor the place."

This time his look was one of exasperation

"Not that thing, the other thing."

Her frosty gaze didn't abate, and she repeated herself.

"They can take care of themselves."

His stare didn't abate.

"On the off chance that something goes hideously wrong, we need to be there."

She rolled her eyes, grabbed his arm, and replied with a huff.

"Ugh, fine. Let's go then."

And with that the both of them vanished from the hillside.

-:-

Susan was getting extremely annoyed.

"Harry, for the love of Merlin we need to fight back."

The answering growl was equal parts pain and frustration.

"If you poke your head over that hill it's going to get blown off, they've got range advantage on us and they clearly don't give a fuck about wasting ammo or the amount of noise being thrown around. That means they have either government sanction, or are very, very well organised crime."

She huffed angrily and eyeballed Hermione who was still working frantically on Harry's ankle with the first aid kit from the boot of the car.

"Tell your husband he's being an idiot."

The brunette didn't even look at her as she replied.

"I'm not quite Mrs Potter yet Susan, and he's not being an idiot, despite his pain, you're being stubborn."

Susan actually cussed then, she didn't often, but this situation deserved it. Fleur looked equally frustrated. There was literally nothing she could do at that range. Tracey however, looked speculative.

"How far you reckon they're watching?"

Susan looked up and realized immediately what her partner meant. The embankment extended for a good two, three hundred metres to either side. The two of them could crawl that distance and take shots from the angle where they wouldn't be watching. She glanced at Harry to see him looking at her. He nodded once sharply.

"Go"

The embankment wasn't high, maybe two meters at most, but it was extremely steep, making it almost impossible to walk comfortably along the face. Susan wasn't exactly enamoured of irrigation trenches, but it was their only choice right now.

They grabbed their weapons from the boot of the wrecked car and, after testing the depth quickly, slid into the freezing water. Susan shivered as it soaked her up to her knees before pressing forwards, sloughing through the mire with the ease of someone with a high level of fitness.

Tracey was right behind her and they made short work of the hundred meter walk they had quickly agreed upon and were soon crawling up the slope. Harry, now recovered apparently, had crawled to the lip of the embankment where he and the other two girls were hiding and fired a couple of shots from his rifle into the air. He was very good at being a distraction.

Susan used her boot to carve a wedge in the muddy slope which she anchored herself on and wrapped her arm around Tracey's waist, making sure she wouldn't slide backwards with each shot as she carefully inched over the lip of the hill. The metallic click of the bolt working alerted Susan to imminent fire. Her partner's soft voice reached her ears.

"Three seconds, two seconds, three seconds."

Susan held up three fingers for Harry to see and counted down in an exaggerated fashion to account for the distance between them, when she reached zero both he and Tracey fired, his gunfire masking the sound of hers to conceal her position.

Two seconds later they fired again, then three seconds after that.

This carried on for a couple more repetitions until, finally, the field was quiet. Susan ventured a quiet question.

"Any left?"

Tracey slid down to perch on the rough ledge beside her and Susan noted the ashen cast of her face.

"None"

-:-

"Christ on a fucking bike."

Lucrezia raised an eyebrow at her partner's cursing. It wasn't rare he exclaimed in any fashion, let alone so coarsely. She couldn't blame him though, there were three machine gun nests here, and all of them were filled with corpses. Neat golf ball sized holes in the front, big ragged exit wounds on the back. Now she understood his earlier concern, now she understood his stress. These were big bullets. Even if one of these only hit her in the shoulder she'd be dead in seconds.

That a child of sixteen was doing this was enough to make her stomach heave, these were just kids. This… girl, had killed twelve people, cleanly. None of these were wing shots, either chest or head shots. What in the nine hells was going on in Britain that children were turned into… her?

"I told you they could take care of themselves."

-:-

Harry fucking hated ankle injuries. He'd had a few of them over the years and the universally sucked. Even magic couldn't fix them properly, not quickly anyway, there were just too many tiny bones in the foot that all got screwed with when a serious ankle injury occurred.

So he hobbled, and didn't hobbling suck too. Susan and Fleur were both supporting him as they moved along the side of the road. They couldn't risk apparating, they'd managed to completely avoid using magic even in that skirmish. If they even so much as cast a lighting charm they'd have Austrian magical police bearing down on them before they could finish the incantation.

So they had to hobble. Hermione was being supported by Tracey who was helping the brunette keep weight off her injured side. Harry couldn't help but bitch a little at their situation, but only in his mind, where only Hermione could hear him. Out loud he said;

"We need to contact the order member in Vienna. Right now we need help, magical help."

"Well I'm not magical, but I can help."

The voice made Harry's head whip up so fast he almost injured himself again. Standing in front of him was a ridiculously tall early twenties man wearing very, very thick kevlar. The kind of kevlar that you see riot police wearing. Worse yet he was cradling a vicious looking shotgun.

His wand came up on instinct but the shotgun was quicker, it was aimed mid chest before he could level his wand. The giant was fast, very fast.

"Please don't do that, my employer would be rather frustrated if I had to wound you before escorting you to your destination."

Hermione had a flash of insight that made him tentatively lower his wand

"They work for the witch hunters."

Harry eyed the giant, wondering why Hermione referred to him as a 'they' before he noticed the slight female behind him toting an impressively long sniper rifle. He decided to go for broke, knowing that, fast as this giant was, his magic was faster.

"You two work in Poland?"

It was as direct as he felt he could be. Acknowledging that they worked for the witch hunters in the open was tantamount to breaking the statute of secrecy. The giant seemed to understand because he gave a careful nod.

"I'm Victor, this is Lucrezia. We've been waiting for you two."

The man, Victor, looked down at the tiny woman by his side and asked her a question at a volume Harry couldn't hear. She huffed in annoyance and stuck her arm out.

"Grab my hand please, we need to get out of here."

Harry turned to the other and gauged their reactions; Hermione looked apprehensive, but he knew she agreed with his tentative idea to do as these two said for the time being. Susan looked skittish, as if being out in the open like this made her nervous. Harry understood, it made him nervous too.

Tracey was eyeing the sniper rifle like she wanted one which almost made Harry laugh, and when she met Harry's eyes she nodded briefly. Fleur looked the most nervous, but there was trust in her expression, for him not them. Huffing a little at the situation he slipped his pistol into it's holster but retained his wand and nodded at the girl.

"Let's go then."

He and the other girls put their hands on her arm somewhere, VIctor grabbed her other hand, and they all vanished.

-:-

They abruptly reappeared in a spartan living room, half a dozen chairs surrounded a low, chipped, table. The transition was seamless; one moment they were standing on a shoddy road in the middle of the Austrian countryside, the next they were standing in what looked like a cheap motel. Not even his apparition was that smooth. Who the fuck were these people?

Before he could ask any questions Victor spoke up in his weird accent.

"Welcome to Poland."

-:-

An3: Waaaaat? A new chapter? Heresy!

An4: So… At the time of writing this (27/03/2016) I realized that I'd made an enormous continuity error. ENORMOUS. LITERALLY ENORMOUS. In chapter 7 of Web Of Lies I claimed that the Bones Abbot MacMillan Davis and Greengrass families had been attacked. Leaving no survivors (Obviously the children were at school and safe. Except… Bones is minister. Daphne's family apparently disappeared towards the end of Web of Lies and Tracey's family are being pricks… but still alive. Now you understand my consternation. As a result I'm going to back edit the story and change that paragraph in Web of Lies. I'm not sure to what yet, but it'll happen. Gawd, can't believe I missed that.

Furthermore as of (30/04/2016) I want to talk some real talk for a moment about the future of this story, and some of it's past. I've made plenty of mistakes in the writing of this story, and that comes across in the reviews of people too uninterested or too impatient to read the author's notes where I edit out a lot of my bumbles, or give excuses for them. Normally I can handle salt, but the sheer quantity of people bitching about the same shit really brings my mood down and severely impacts my motivation to continue writing.

Ideally I'd do a re-write, chapter by chapter, and fix the major errors that cause people to bitch all the time, but the same bullshit that saps my will to write progressively also restricts my impetus to write retroactively. The other option would be a dedicated beta who would be willing to trawl through the previous forty chapters of this behemoth and spot fix the bits that have been left behind, but why lump that on someone when I'm not willing to do it myself?

Basically unless there's someone really eager to do so, it's going to remain in the state that it is, and this will probably be the last chapter for a while. I had/have big plans for this story, and at least another two installments (200K+ word installments) planned, but with Isaiah Strain getting such good feedback, and it starting in a place that I know I can maintain, I find myself unwilling to commit more effort to what is rapidly becoming a sinking ship, especially with nearly a dozen reviews in the last few hours, bitching about the continuity errors. And I really hate that, because I was so determined so very recently to finish this and now I feel no motivation to do so at all.

:/ Sorry.

An5: Review Responses:

Anotherboarduser: Glad you liked it, I'm honestly still not sure about the guns thing tbh. W/e it's neck deep in the story at this point and I'm being dragged along for the ride.

The Viking Stranger: I hope you enjoyed the smut when it finally turned up, as for the rest I'm glad you're so invested in this.

Vegasman: All questions you'll have to wait on to find out :D

Agentbrisbane: Thanks for the compliment! I think I replied to this in pm but I honestly can't remember so I'm doing it again here.

Beyondthesea: I find reviews like this hard to respond to when they're basically just a summary of what happened in the chapter, all I can say is thanks for reading!

Danielle596: It might be a little misleading given the fact that I am just using 'demons' as a word for these things. But the truth of the matter is that all of this magic was/is pagan magic that the church decried and destroyed a lot of references to. It's the same magic, it's just called a different thing. Sort of like how Christmas used to be saturnalias before it was taken over by the church.

As for more 'old school' stuff I'm sure Umbridge will bring some of it in, honestly though most of it is ritual based. Wands did a lot to speed up the casting of magic.

Morcheller: Thanks for your review!

Talonwalker: Great to hear! Thanks for reading.

Zzzzzz1002003: Thanks! Glad to hear it.

Friedrich: There's that update you wanted, and thanks for your support. As for your grammar? It's fine for an esol person.

BRUCE: Thanks for your thoughts! This is going to be (at minimum) a four part series. (assuming I actually end up finishing it) that is to say that I have this installment fully planned out, as well as one more.

Septimus714: Great to hear, and thankyou!

StarRose: As you've obviously spotted this is a major problem I'm going to have to go back and fix. Most of the reason why this happened is because it was so long between writing those two chapters that I totally forgot about that detail. BAd excuse for it but /shrug, it's the best I have r/n.

As for your quibbles with my titles? Seriously? You have quibbles with titles? . what's a man to do.

Galndrael: Sorry you've had to wait so long. Read the above author's note if you want to know why this was so late. But thanks for reading regardless.

Okay folks that's it for another chapter. Tune in next time for Chapter Five: Witch Hunters. Wherein Harry and co finally meet the brutal and uncompromising Witch Hunters, and we learn more about what's going on back in Britain.

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


	5. Witch Hunters

An: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

An2: Finally got through my feeling of impending doom related to this story.

-:-

Chapter Five: Witch Hunters

"Welcome to Poland."

With that statement the enormous man took a step back and gestured widely to several seats.

"Sit, you came expecting enemies, obviously that is not the case. We have much to discuss before tomorrow."

Wasn't that the truth of it? Harry still wasn't entirely wound down from the battle they'd just been in and his wand hand was twitching, he was pretty certain he could force his way past this enigmatic pair if he had to, but he wasn't certain. Best not to find out perhaps.

However he did shake his head, a grimace of distaste on his lips.

"I don't know if you noticed Victor, but two of us are injured. I've got a shattered ankle and…"

he shot a half glance at Hermione.

"My associate has fractured ribs."

He turned back to the pair.

"We need medical attention."

The big man smiled grimly and gestured to the open doorway, presumably leading to another room in the battered suite.

"Mr Potter, you and Miss Granger will find first aid supplies in that room, painkillers and the like. You can magically heal yourselfs later. You've been given a pass for casting magic in the city for the next twenty four hours. The rest of your stay in Warsaw will be dependent on your meeting with the Dowódca, regardless you have amnesty unless you commit a hostile act. Use it wisely to heal yourself and your partner."

A little put off by the knowledge the larger man had and the startling news, he glanced meaningfully at the girls and the five of them made their way into the other room. Sure enough there were a medley of medical first aid supplies but in all honesty they'd already done what they could with magic, this was mostly an excuse to regroup and discuss. Harry had a feeling the giant in the other room had already figured that out, but he was being magnanimous in allowing them a chance to talk.

"Harry, what the hell is going on?"

The hoarsely whispered shout was very typical of Tracey, for a Slytherin she had no patience at all.

"I don't know Tracey, things are pretty screwed up right now. Honestly at the moment I think we should be asking who the hell was shooting at us on the road in Austria. They knew who we were, where we would be, and when we would be there. If they had chosen a better piece of road we'd be dead, plain as day. As it is I have no idea how you managed to get down the slope to us Tracey."

She snorted

"Luck."

The three of them, Tracey Hermione and Harry, sat there pondering their next move as Susan and Fleur bustled about, casting spells and administering painkillers. Susan flicked her wand, translocating his boot and sock to the floor next to them. His foot immediately flopped limply to the side without support and he hissed in discomfort. She winced and flicked her gaze towards Hermione.

"What did you cast?"

His partner shot him an apologetic look before answering.

"Just a bone shoring charm and a tendon relaxer to make sure it didn't cramp. We didn't have time for anything more intrusive."

Susan nodded and looked up at him grimly

"This is gonna hurt a bit, I've got to repair the bones all at the same time or they'll get misaligned and you'll walk with a limp for the rest of your life. I can't numb it or your nerves might get crushed."

She conjured a wooden bit for him to bite down on and silenced the room. Then abruptly and quite without warning she shot a spell at his foot that made him feel like the entire area was replaced with molten rock. He barely had time to clamp down on the mental link between Hermione and himself before he threw his head back from the pain of it.

He clenched down hard on the bit and a groan bubbled up from his throat at the raw agony of it. The ordeal lasted perhaps five seconds, and then it was all over. He was left panting, foot now trying to cramp, despite Hermione's spell, from the extreme tension his entire leg had undergone. He wiggled the foot and, despite the pain, realized that it was now working fine. Susan growled in annoyance before freezing his entire lower leg with yet another spell, before replacing his boot and sock.

"Don't move it for at least the rest of the day."

She shot him a last withering glance before moving off to the side to organize what they'd brought with them from the wreckage of the car. Hermione's treatment had apparently been a lot easier, fractured ribs were a simple fix, if prickly, and she was already up and walking.

Her gentle touch on his arm and imploring expression reminded him that he still had their link closed to her. Cautiously he opened it and then relaxed as her warm presence swept through him, mindless of the associated pain.

Soft solicitous thoughts rushed over to him and he did his best to reassure her. He'd be fine, he'd dealt with worse. His back regularly gave him worse pain than this.

"Right back to the present people. There's a sniper who looks like she knows what she's doing and an enormous armoured gunman out there. Apparently they're friends, but really, can we trust them?"

Harry snorted at Susan's verbiage

"Trust them? Not hardly, we can trust the amnesty though, that means a lot in these circles. We need to be a bit circumspect though, these two clearly know about magic, and are sanctioned by the government here. We can talk to them openly about it. But not anyone else from the Witch Hunters till we've got more information. FIrst thing's first we need to know if Moody's still kicking."

Hermione nodded, a thoughtful expression falling over her features.

"They're paramilitary, probably originally mercenaries. They, especially the big one, have Witch Hunter markings on their clothing and their weapons are military grade, not black market. They're muggles, or at least Victor is. The shorter one, the woman, is something else entirely, she's not a witch that's for sure."

Harry and Fleur both shot her a curious look, Susan and Tracey seemed too fixated on cataloguing their equipment to pay attention. Hermione looked exasperated.

"She doesn't have an aura, that clearly was _not_ apparition but it was also clearly magic. There's something going on there but it's definitely not down to the standard witchcraft and wizardry. Honestly it's the bigger one that worries me. I tried to check him for an aura but his entire body is like a magical void. It's like he doesn't even exist, or at least any magic I send towards him as a probe just disappears. I don't think even you could kill him with magic Harry, he'd just absorb it all."

That troubled Harry, more than he liked to admit. The giant was fast, well armoured and magically immune? He privately lamented the fact that they looked to be on opposite sides of the conflict. Or at the very least different ones.

"So we just follow along with this for now then. They were clearly expecting us, and they aren't hostile. Which makes me think that they know exactly what's going on in Britain and they captured Mad-eye to set up a parley. They either have something to offer in terms of intelligence or manpower. They wouldn't bother going to all this trouble otherwise."

He swung his paralysed leg absently as he thought about their next course of action.

"What did we get from the car girls?"

Tracey made a humming sound, a happy hum.

"Basically everything. I lost a couple of rounds to the water but apart from that it's all there."

He hummed as well, they had options, but not many.

"What do you reckon our chances are of taking those two out and getting out of here?"

Susan made a 'so/so' gesture.

"If we hit the big one through the door with Tracey's rifle I say we have better than even odds. But honestly I doubt we get out of the city alive, we can't apparate far enough to get free of the mire we're in and as soon as the fighting starts the Witch Hunters will use everything they have to take us down.

Nevermind the fact that if they see this coming, which I think they do, then if one of them even grazes us with one of those guns then we're going to lose someone. Straight up."

Harry nodded, he'd figured most of that out already but it was good to hear Susan's take on things. He raised his head and looked everyone in the eye for a moment, they trusted him.

"We'll go along with it then, have this meeting they've been setting up for Merlin knows how long, get Mad-eye, and get the hell out of here."

-:-

They'd been gone far too long already, Victor knew that they needed to give the five teens time to sort this out in their heads, but Lucrezia and he were banking entirely on the fact that they wouldn't just kill them both. He glanced down at his hands to see them trembling on the arms of his chair. Closing his eyes for a moment he took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing as best he could.

A soft hand closed around his and he looked up to see Lucrezia's uncharacteristically warm gaze meeting his own.

"We're going to be fine Victor. They're smart, they know that if they make a pass at us then they'll never get off the continent alive. They care about each other just as much as I care about you. They won't risk it."

He smiled wanly at her and squeezed her hand gently, enjoying the moment. The catch on the door clicked giving him just enough time to stand and pull his shotgun across his body into a ready grip. No sense in being careless about the whole thing, reassurance or not.

They came back out into the room looking distinctly more polished. The boy, man, had a sharper air about him now. Like previously he had just been acknowledging Victor, and was now actually assessing him as a threat. The girl, Granger, was at his weaker side with a nasty looking pistol unholstered in her hand. It wasn't raised though, so she was probably just being ready, like Victor was.

The oldest of the bunch, the _creature_ , looked determined and dangerous. Victor knew that in close quarters she would always be the one he had to take out first. Her unnatural nature gave her strength, speed and power that even he couldn't absorb. If he didn't eliminate her quickly she'd gut him, and then there'd be nothing between her and Lucrezia. The other two girls, the sniper pair. Were unarmed but their body language both projected confidence and a certain 'don't fuck with me' attitude that Victor could respect.

Only when Potter had sat down did he notice, far too late, the thin stick of wood pointing directly at Lucrezia held in the man's hand. The eyes that he previously appraised as 'sharp' now read as positively 'deadly'

"I think we understand each other Victor. This woman means the world to you. These girls mean a great deal to me. How's about we all disarm so we can get through this with a minimum of stress?"

The thudding heartbeat in Victor's chest reached a fever pitch. He understood the warnings they'd been given now. The little information he'd been given about Potter suggested a singular ability to protect those he cared about, and to escape from deadly situations in one piece, he didn't want to fuck with this man. Carefully, and with a minimum of fuss, he pulled the shotgun's strap over his head and laid the weapon on the ground at his feet. Lucrezia's smg joined it a moment later. Then, after a tense moment, the handgun and wand vanished. Disappeared to some unseen holsters.

The tension almost visibly eased from the room as the seven occupants sat back in their chairs, relieved of the immediate threat of violence.

"Is Alastor Moody alive?"

The blunt question was unsurprising; Potter's patience had obviously worn thin between the attack and this clandestine meeting. Victor decided not to bait the lion.

"He's alive, safe even. Our employer questioned him, and he is imprisoned, but comfortably enough. His capture was a ploy to get you into Warsaw to talk without having to contact you through tainted channels that could undermine our efforts. Ultimately our employer wants all six of you to head back to Britain in two days. We've already scheduled a flight for you."

He unsnapped a pocket on the front of his body armour and pulled out a sextet of plane tickets.

"These are for you, a show of good faith, so to speak."

Victor's fingers tensed ever so briefly as Potter shifted forwards. The man moved like a snake, all sinuous, swift movements and easy grace. It was hard not to react instinctively.

He took the tickets and Victor sat back and resisted the urge to look at his hand, to check to make sure it was still there. He felt like Potter, or one of those girls, could take it off without warning. There was a certain caged energy about them that was putting him on edge more than he could say.

"Thankyou."

It struck the tall man very abruptly that nothing Potter did allowed a clear line of sight from himself to Granger. She was clearly the weakest point in this link and if there was a confrontation she'd be the one he had to capture, or this whole city would burn.

"We want this to go as peacefully as possible Mr Potter."

"Lord Potter."

Victor raised an eyebrow at the haughty expression on the young brunette's face.

"You'll address Lord Potter by his proper title or not at all."

"Tracey"

The soft spoken word was a command, a gentle command but a command nonetheless. With a touch of chastisement the elegant young woman retreated back to a reclined position in her chair. Obviously annoyed.

That steely gaze didn't let up though.

"Lord Potter then, regardless we don't want a confrontation. As you so succinctly put it we've both got people we care about here. A kerfuffle could cause unwanted injury or death on either side of this very precarious coin."

He grimaced internally, what a roundabout way of saying what everyone present already knew; If a fight started, everyone was going to die.

-:-

Tracey sat back in her chair sullenly, Harry's chastisement had felt like a slap. Very rarely did he reprimand her at all, especially not in public. But she also knew that she'd overstepped slightly, her upbringing and respect for him had made her entirely too indignant about the perceived breach of etiquette. This was a dangerous situation and he really didn't need her antagonizing the threats.

"Lord Potter, do you know what a Heretic is?"

It was the first time she could remember the woman speaking, Tracey was certain she'd heard the sniper speak at least once before, just before they arrived here. But she was still so hopped up on adrenaline that the encounter was blurred in her memory. The woman's voice was light and silky, but hard edged, like a dagger's blade slickened with oil.

And as for the tone… Tracey could practically _hear_ the capital on that word. She knew what, generally, a heretic was, but not this, capitalized, variant.

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

Curious, normally Harry would correct people when they called him by his title. He hated it, which was yet another reason she should have shut her gob. But he was tolerating it here, to put them off balance, or as a subtle nod to her, an amelioration of his reprimand? She wasn't sure, but she'd take the second option, just because it made her buzz a little inside. She loved that feeling.

"Heretics, Lord Potter, are muggles or squibs who, via the help of a witch or wizard, steal the magical core of another witch or wizard through ritual. It doesn't give them typical magical prowess, or the ability to use a wand, but it does imprint them with magical talents, usually relating to the talents of the witch or wizard whose core was taken. Victor and I are both involuntary Heretics."

Tracey felt bile rise in her throat, the dark magic involved in such a ritual must be profound. Then it struck her, they had stolen the cores of at least two other magicals. Only Hermione's firm grip on her upper arm stopped her leaping to her feet in outrage.

"Involuntary?"

Harry's soft question made her shiver. That was the kind of voice she rarely heard from him, the voice he'd used after Daphne died to swear to her that their friend would be avenged.

"Yes, involuntary. The wizards who killed our parents forced their cores into us as a form of torture. We were both squibs you see."

The room fell silent, this certainly explained the strange magical talents the two had. Tracey couldn't help but ask.

"Why are you telling us this?"

The dark haired woman smiled thinly.

"You came here spoiling for a fight, preparing yourselves to go to battle to rescue your ally. You know little of us and I hope that by giving you some information we can bring the course of our encounter more firmly onto peaceful ground. Besides, such information is rare in Britain where the knowledge of such things is suppressed by the Ministry."

She examined her nails and Tracey could practically feel the disdain rolling off her in a barely concealed cloud. She'd have been a good Slytherin.

"Your country is somewhat backwards, but there's no reason you have to remain ignorant."

Speaking of antagonizing the threats in the room…

"Lu"

The single syllable was spoken by Victor in much the same way Harry had reprimanded her before. But the woman across from Tracey didn't back down, at least not at first. She bristled at the giant and looked ready for a row before looking into his eyes. Abruptly she shut her mouth tight and sat back, looking warily at Fleur of all people.

Harry sighed roughly and gestured to the bedroom.

"There's not enough room in there for all of us tonight. If you want us to meet your boss tomorrow we're going to need somewhere to sleep tonight. Somewhere we can put some minor wards around so that we don't have to be up all night watching our backs."

The enormous man reached into another pouch in his ridiculous armoured vest and withdrew a hotel key.

"Two bedrooms, two beds in each. Double up if you need to. Anywhere larger would be conspicuous. We have the magical side of this city on lockdown but muggle crime is still very real and dangerous. Stay quiet please, cast your wards. We'll be in here tonight, you're just down the hall."

He paused and Tracey could practically feel the iron jaws of a condition snapping down around them.

"We've been very generous with you so far, especially considering the circumstances, and we've shown a lot of faith. We'd like you to make a similar gesture, and leave your ballistic weapons here tonight. You'll have your wards, but the two of us will have no such guarantee that we will be safe tonight, this will be a step in that direction."

Tracey frowned, knowing full well that Harry would accept this deal, she didn't want to leave her baby in the hands of these people.

"Of course. You have been very generous. We'd be happy to make such a concession. What time shall we meet you here tomorrow?"

Merlin but he was hot when he spoke with class.

"Ten hundred hours should be fine. See you tomorrow."

"Indeed, let's disarm and head out girls."

-:-

The rooms they'd been… assigned, were spartan but serviceable. Clearly they'd be roughing it for the next couple of days, relatively speaking.

Harry sat heavily at one of the rickety chairs in their room and groaned as his ankle throbbed in protest. Bones they could heal easily enough but tendons and muscles were a much longer recovery without professional medical help. Hermione's hand came down lightly on the back of his neck, massaging the muscles there with a gentle but firm touch.

"Are you okay sweetheart?"

He reached up to take her hand in his and looked up at her with a warm smile. Tracey was off to one side changing shamelessly into a nightie.

"I will be, let's get these wards up shall we?"

She hummed in agreement and helped him to his feet. A moment later he let his magic infuse his vision. Normally when he did this lines of magical power would fade into sight, the after images of spells and the magical signatures of already existing wards. Now? There was nothing, he actually checked to make sure he'd cast the mage vision properly before he realized that the entire country was probably like this, no magic, no wizards and witches, nothing. The thought made him shiver at the holocaust that must have escaped the history books.

Ward casting had two specific branches of it's art. One the one hand you could cast single spell general wards that covered a set area. They were crude and obvious to a talented viewer, but effective against most else. Thier biggest weakness was that their area of effect was fixed, you couldn't alter it. As a result they were useful for quick outdoors jobs, but were terrible for warding specific rooms inside a building, or just buildings in general, or anything smaller than a building for that matter.

The second branch was more delicate, and required more patience and time, but was far more effective. It involved casting hundreds of tiny spells, each one meant to detect or repel a host of different possibilities. Depending on the weave of these spells you could include or exclude individuals from their protection. He and Hermione would merge together and wield their power as a single entity to create a cocoon of spells around the suite.

He felt power suffuse him and groaned at the feeling, Hermione's magical strength washed over him like a soothing tide. They were both incredibly strong magically speaking, but when they fused their magic in such a way an almost intoxicating feeling of power suffused him. If he was a lesser man, or perhaps less anchored by such a strong woman, he'd be strongly tempted to let that power consume him, to unleash it in unspeakable ways.

Fortunately that wasn't the case. He stretched out with one arms and began to draw symbols in the air in front of him. As he completed each one it flashed briefly before fading and a streak of magic appeared in the air and snapped to the walls of the room, anchoring itself firmly. It took nearly half an hour but eventually the room was encased in a web of carefully woven threads of magic.

As they separated into distinct entities again he felt a wave of confusion from Hermione, as if she was missing time. Concerned he touched her mind with his and felt the confusion intensify.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She looked at him with worried eyes

"I'm losing myself in you Harry. We're… when we merge, like that… I vanished."

Fear gripped him a moment and he thought back at the events from the past hour and had a startling realization, it wasn't them, we, us. It was him. She _had_ vanished into his personality. Feeling a bit faint he sat back heavily on the chair, despite the returning ache from his ankle, and stared at his soulmate.

"We can't do that, ever again."

She rolled her eyes at him, exasperated even through their collective fear.

"Obviously something has changed, once we figure out what it is we can correct it. We should ask Umbridge when we get back to Wales."

Still worried about the turn of events he reached for her and she readily sat in his lap and curled up in his arms, trembling faintly. Clearly despite her bravado she was scared.

"I love you." 

"I love you too sweetheart."

"Are you two okay over there?"

Sitting on her bed under the covers, and completely forgotten till now by the two shellshocked teens, was Tracey, who was looking as scared as they felt.

Hermione was nearly in tears as she trembled against his shoulder so Harry answered for them both, Tracey was more than just a friend, she was family, she deserved the truth.

"We've just had rather a large fright. When Hermione and I… blend our personalities. Usually we become a collective, someone new made from both of us. But just now… Hermione disappeared. She… Vanished, in the bond. She's got half an hour of missing time from just now."

Tracey's expression went from scared to confused and then back to scared.

"What does that even mean… Has that ever happened before? Are you okay Hermione?"

Harry stroked the back of Hermione's head as she nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

"We're obviously both pretty shook up right now, honestly neither of us know what it means and… no, it's never happened before. We're hoping Umbridge might be able to help."

Tracey nodded slowly, obviously still worried.

"Maybe… Damn… this is really the worst timing."

Harry groaned, of course, the mission. The one time they needed to have nothing going wrong… He felt a flash of something dark run through him.

"Hermione… Umbridge is a heretic."

"What?"

"Umbridge… she takes the souls of magical beings. Boosts herself with their power. It's dark magic. God how couldn't we see that before, and she wants to do that to us, give us the power she's been accumulating."

"Fuck."

He didn't hear Hermione swear often, but when she did, it was for a good reason. They shared an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Harry tugged her up and over to the bed.

"No point stressing over things we can't change. Get ready for bed, I'll check on Fleur and Susan then join you. We need sleep."

-:-

Susan tossed in her bed a bit, it was hard and small and she missed her bunk at the barracks in Wales. She'd grown used to sleeping alongside Tracey and Daphne over the last year, with Daphne gone something always seemed to be missing, wrong. Now with Tracey bunking in the same room as the Potters she couldn't catch a wink of sleep at all. There had been a subtle cue from Harry that Susan had nearly missed. He hadn't wanted Fleur sleeping in the same room as them, maybe those wounds would never heal.

She sat up and stared blankly into the darkness, they'd closed the curtains on the surprisingly active nightlife of Warsaw and as a result the room was pitch black. Susan closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees, just sitting there, fighting back the waves of loneliness.

 _Neville…_

 _Harry…_

Why couldn't she be like normal girls and just love one boy? Why couldn't Neville see that she would never cheat on him? Why did they both have to be so sweet?

Hot tears tracked scalding trails down her cheeks as her magic synergised with her mood. Swiping them away she scowled; her whole life was so screwed up right now. She was only sixteen but already a soldier, a sniper, she'd killed people. She loved two different boys… men, who both held very strong opinions and values. One of them even already had his soulmate. It would be so much easier if she could just not love Harry, but he was what all of her life revolved around.

Her position in the Regiment, her relationships, her schooling. All of it was either on hold or in action because of him. Growling in frustration she flopped back against the pillows and settled in for a good sulk.

-:-

The morning dawned with a surprisingly harsh glare, the clouds had disappeared and the sun shone sharply through the thin windows. Harry had just opened the curtains and winced at the abrupt change in light.

The city itself was already bustling, no city in the modern age truly slept and already there were hundreds of cars on the narrow roads and even more push-bikes. He quietly wondered if any Witch hunters were driving around.

"Harry? We're ready to go."

The five of them were all dressed in their regimental uniforms and had their wands strapped to their forearms in militaristic holsters. The holsters could hold both a wand and a pistol in folded space. Flicking the wrist and the user's magic at the same time would bring the desired weapon to hand.

Harry's breastplate felt comfortable and homey in such a hostile environment. Especially after being in a firefight yesterday, unprotected by the magical armour. He did feel a little naked without the weight of his rifle but that would change soon.

He flicked his neck from side to side, working out a crick. Hermione came up to his side and put a hand on his shoulder in a gentle fashion. Over their link, he felt her concern, smiling he reassured he as best he could.

"It's not my back, we dealt with that well enough in the en suite. I'm just tense."

She nodded then grimaced.

"Hopefully this doesn't go sideways today. Merlin, I'm so nervous, look."

He looked down and, sure enough, Hermione's hands were trembling. Concerned immediately he turned and collected them both in his, gazing at her with worry in his eyes.

"You going to be okay?"

She gave a little laugh, it was slightly shrill.

"We're about to walk into a meeting with the most successful anti-magical muggle organization the world has ever seen. I don't know if any of us are going to be okay."

He wrapped his arms around her and they both took comfort from the contact.

"We should go"

Neither of them needed to say more. Their bond made up for that, even in it's restricted state. But they both wished they had more time.

-:-

That morning, when her two roommates had thought she was sleeping, Tracey had witnessed something that made her heart ache. It wasn't sexual, though she honestly wished that it had been, seeing Harry so fragile and broken wasn't something she thought she could bear repeating.

His face had been locked in a rictus of agony, arms and legs straining and taut. Hermione had needed to levitate him into the ensuite bathroom. What she did to help him after that Tracey could only guess at, but it was obvious that Harry struggled with an infirmity that none of them had ever guessed at before. It was reminiscent of the time he had been paralyzed by Ginny Weasley; he was helpless and in pain. Abruptly she understood what Hermione had told her once, that Harry was the strongest person she had ever known. Tracey doubted that anything she would ever experience would be that taxing, not only on her body, but her mind. For someone as independent as Harry, needing Hermione's help for such basic locomotion must be the greatest hardship for him.

It tempered her own feelings for him. She knew now that if anything happened to Hermione… more that if Harry survived after something happened to Hermione, he would need her help. He would need the help of someone he could trust unconditionally.

Harry wasn't the only one dealing with stress and trauma. Susan, who was walking beside her, was red around the eyes and had clearly been crying. Tracey sympathised; the battle of emotion Susan was waging with herself was a brutal one. The young Slytherin had deliberately avoided interacting with other boys specifically so that she couldn't ever end up in the same situation. She loved Harry, whether he loved her back or not it was enough; she wasn't a particularly sexual creature, she didn't feel that she had… 'needs' she was content to simply watch and support, and be supported.

Harry was the best friend she could ask for; he understood her, he cared for her, he protected her. He gave her purpose and picked her up when she fell. He could be distant though, he rarely opened up to her, and of course he had Hermione for his emotional needs. It was not perfect, but she was content.

Fleur walked between the two pairs. She was arguably the strongest combatant of the five in a close quarters situation. It was better that she be able to react to any threat, be it ahead of them or behind. Tracey still didn't trust the nosferatu; she was hiding something from them all. Even after all that had happened she was still secretive and reclusive. She barely talked, she watched, listened, thought. But didn't speak. It was more than a little unnerving.

She'd interacted with Fleur Delacour before the betrayal and the French Veela had been gregarious, cheerful, exuberant. And had only become a similarly closed in, reserved woman when she was battling with the bond that existed between herself and Harry. Did that still exist? Did it still torment her? Or was her reticence a product of her existence after her… rebirth?

So many questions, no answers. The biggest question was why she was even there with them. Harry had brought her along on the flimsiest of reasons, either he knew something and wasn't telling; admittedly not a rarity, or there was something emotional going on.

Either way Tracey was going to keep a close eye on the blond.

-:-

When Victor opened the door it was to five stern faced teens wearing magical body armour. Potter had his wand out and was spinning it around his fingers absentmindedly, the German-born mercenary knew that Potter was still deadly even with his weapon in such a casual position. Not to him perhaps, he wasn't threatened by magic, but the teen could still murder his partner, or blow the entire building to shreds. Falling masonry would kill Victor as quick as any other man.

"You're on time."

The question was a stall, giving him a minute to collect his thoughts.

"Should we have been fashionably late? I don't have the patience for it honestly. Give us our arms and take us to this meeting your boss organized."

Victor nodded once before calling to his partner.

"Lu, get these kids their guns for me."

The soft snort he heard from behind him almost made him smile, almost. Lucrezia had looked over the weapons last night and found them to be a fascinating mixture of magic and analogue technology.

She deposited the bag of weapons on the ground next to him and before he could even reach for it it was gone. Looking up, startled, he saw that the weapons were already being passed to their owners. Potter flicked his wrist and the wand disappeared, a second flick and the overlarge pistol did as well. There was something going on there but Victor hadn't the mind for it, a hidden holster maybe, it was irrelevant. The five killers were armed again.

"Shall we be off?"

Victor had been a merc for a long time, he'd done some pretty reprehensible things, but he'd never developed the look this _teenager_ had.

"Sure. Let's go."

-:-

The trip to the meeting place was a short one, the Witch Hunters had provided the two mercenaries with a slate coloured open topped jeep for transport and it growled like a caged beast on the narrow roads of the Polish capital. They'd clearly organized the hotel in advance to move the teens to and it was close to the Witch Hunter's Headquarters. The compound was ringed with concrete walls topped with barbed wire and armed guards at the gates. Infantry Fighting Vehicles and jeeps sat in ordered lines while sizable units of men and women moved about in military formations. The Polish Government clearly gave the organization free reign to continue its mandate, perhaps even support.

The colossal man parked the jeep in the open as they were waved through the gates and passed off the keys to a uniformed man who drove it deep into the motor pool. They were getting wary looks from many of the men and women who were moving about the compound but it was clear that if they started anything a hail of bullets would hit them from all sides. Suddenly Hermione wished they'd brought the _Tyranny_ with them.

They were bracketed by a unit of Hunters as they traversed the yard, despite the fact that they were clearly outnumbered the Witch Hunters were taking no chances with them. The heavily armed group headed towards the central structure of the compound and soon enough they were delving down into a sub-basement level. It set Hermione's teeth on edge, being below ground in a semi-hostile environment like this. But they had little choice.

One of their escorts pushed a heavy door open and they filed inside to see two men sitting at a table eating breakfast. One of them was young, clean shaven and suited in muggle fashion. The other was Alastor Moody.

Harry's amused chuckle from beside her made her relax a little, clearly the two men had reached some kind of accord. And the peace they had been promised as at least temporarily binding.

"You old reprobate, we spend three days trekking across Europe to rescue you and here we find you eating German sausage and Swiss cheese!"

The grizzled ex-auror grunted and rose from his chair to stump over to the group. He grabbed Harry's hand and Hermione smiled at the camaraderie between them. They'd grown close last summer during Harry's training.

"Potter, took you bloody long enough. This prig hasn't let me seen daylight yet."

Well that was interesting, clearly he was still a prisoner, but one that was given a certain amount of comfort. They were being cautious, but friendly… ish.

"Who's your friend?"

At this the younger man rose from the table, patting his mouth with a napkin. He looked to be about thirty, but it was hard to tell with the bald pate and scarred countenance. When he spoke it was with a heavy accent that mangled the English he spoke horribly.

"My name is Bertrand Collier. I am the Dowódca of this organization, the commander. You five are guests here, under amnesty, under _my_ amnesty. I organised this meeting because you need our help."

Hermione felt a surge of annoyance from Harry, like he was insulted by the implication that he needed the help of this man. Thankfully it was his independence and not his pride that was acting up.

"What help do we need from you? You're muggles, we can't participate in cooperative efforts against magical targets without breaking our own laws."

The man shrugged as he folded the napkin carefully and placed it on the table with a deliberate movement.

"Our efforts do not have to appear cooperative. Victor; map, please."

The large man retrieved a folded map from one of his many tactical pouches and quickly spread it on a bare part of the table. It was a map of Europe. Collier bent over the map for a moment, moving his hands in quick smooth movements, when he moved away nearly two dozen small pins were skewering specific locations. Most were placed on population centers in Britain, but several were in France, Liechtenstein and Germany.

"Not all efforts on a cooperative war effort have to be cooperative. Each of these pins represents a Walpurgis asset. Either Knights of Walpurgis, a demon pack, a Veela battalion, or a Mercenary unit. We know where they are, and when they're going to move to Britain. You've got nearly two thousand individuals arrayed against you. But with our resources we can thin that number by nearly half via the elimination of Walpurgis assets in mainland Europe."

The offer was a potent one, if they were as outnumbered as this man suggested then reducing those numbers by half would be a tremendous aid to freeing Britain from the Valmortis. There had to be a price though, apparently Harry agreed.

"What do you want in return?"

The Dowódca folded his hands across his stomach and gave a small shrug.

"The Knights Walpurgis represent a significant threat to non-magical lives in Britain. Our mandate is to protect non-magicals from any magical threat that might present itself. Your organization is the only one currently combatting this threat aside from our own. It makes strategic sense for us to work in… parallel."

"You didn't answer the question."

Collier gave a sly smile, the first sign of any real emotion Hermione had seen from the man

"No, I guess I didn't."

She could feel Harry's annoyance building and laid a hand on the crook of his arm where it was twitching in a manner that suggested he was resisting the urge to pull a weapon. She shot him an imploring gaze before answering in his stead.

"Until recently we saw your organization as a threat Mr Collier. For a start you've given us no proof that your intelligence is solid, you've asked for nothing in return, and you've not offered to aid us in Britain. For all we know there could be no additional assets and you're simply making a bluff here to avoid an international incident."

The smile disappeared and the scarred man's cheeks reddened. If Hermione didn't know better she'd say he was angry. But the response was controlled, an act.

"You overstep your bounds heretic, we are offering you aid and you are throwing it in our face!"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you want Collier? We can leave now if that suits you. But we'll be taking Alastor with us and you can guarantee that the next time we meet it'll be on hostile terms. Or you could tell us what you want and get this bullshit posturing out of the way."

The false anger left his face and he went blank again, what looked like a neutral state to him.

"Well played Miss Granger. What we want is simple, you are going to hand Mr Krum over to us at the end of the war for interrogation. There are elements of his organization that are hidden from us and we want to root them out once and for all."

Hermione resisted the impulse to frown. He was asking them to commit a war crime, giving the leader of a hostile organization over to a third party for the implied purpose of violent interrogation.

"And what if he dies in the fighting? I can't control whether he lives through this or not."

She thanked Harry silently for his question, if gave her more time to think.

"He'll survive, we have reliable intelligence that suggests he's got somewhere to go to ground. He's not a field commander like Tom Riddle was, he'll let his forces die for him."

Harry frowned and Hermione knew exactly why, that sort of thing was a shaky bet.

"We need to talk to our people about this, this is something serious you're asking for."

"Come now Mr Potter, one life against five hundred? We can deal with half of your problem, and one more life. Basically for no cost to yourself."

Harry growled in the back of his throat. It was a deep, rich sound that normally made Hermione tingle in her core. Today it was a threat.

"You want us to commit a war crime and you call that no cost?"

"Basically no cost Mr Potter. All you have to do is allow my agent to capture him."

"What makes you think it'll be that simple?"

"You'll make it that simple Mr Potter."

-:-

Tracey could smell a rat, there was something else going on here. The man had caved far too easily to Hermione's prodding and he was being far too accommodating. She'd be happy to make that trade, hell she'd volunteer if it meant the number of their opponents would be cut by half.

But there was something else here. Something both Harry and Collier knew that no one was talking about. Hermione made a small gasp in front of her and Tracey fought the urge to sigh. Okay, something Hermione, Harry and Collier knew.

"This offer is limited Mr Potter, our agents are in position to act but the window will close tomorrow morning. You have until tonight to agree."

The growl sounded again and Tracey shivered, no matter what tone Harry used with that growl it still sent shocks through her. Sometimes she was truly very jealous of Hermione.

"I don't need all day, I'm going to make the same decision either way. Take your window of opportunity. We're heading home. Alastor, are you good to travel?"

The older man nodded briskly and stumped to the door.

"I'll be glad to see daylight again lad. Meet you up there."

"Before you go Mr Potter. There's one more thing I'd like to offer you."

Tracey watched curiously, they'd already been given a major boon. Anything more would be a statement, of what she wasn't sure, but a statement to be sure.

"We cannot send our rank and file with you to Britain, because they are as you pointed out non-magical. But we can send two assets with you."

"For fucks sake."

The big man's voice next to her was totally unexpected and Tracey stared at him a moment.

"We'd just gotten free of these five kids and you want us to go into war with them?"

"Yes Mr Velstaldt. You and your partner are, as of now, attached to Mr Potter's para-military unit on an indefinite basis as a gesture of goodwill."

She turned back to Harry just in time to see him smirk. Oh who was she kidding, of course she was a sexual creature. That smirk should be illegal.

"Thank you Mr Collier. We'll take our leave."

As they turned to leave Harry said one last line of dialogue.

"We'll meet you two at the airport in three hours Mr Velstaldt. See to your affairs. I'll be paying your way for you, so just bring your luggage. Good day Mr Collier, it was good to meet you."

Tracey had to hold in a snigger at the look on the giant's face. This was going to be so much fun.

-:-

As Harry crested the stairs leading to the sub-basement level of the compound he felt a deep sense of unease. This was so quick, easy. Their opponents were going to lose personnel, they had additional support in the form of two elite mercenaries. Moreover they were being asked for comparatively little. Either there was a hidden cost that they hadn't spotted or Valmortis was a far greater threat to this organization than they were letting on.

Alastor was standing off to the side of the structure, looking up into the vaguely cloudy sky. He flagged the older man down as he exited the building.

"Mad-eye, you alright?"

The old scot chuckled and waved his hand.

"Nothing serious. They had me hang for a few hours as an attempted intimidation but Collier in there realized I wasn't going to give him anything significant. When I figured that they weren't trying to get you lot killed I told him point blank that there was no point to all the cloak and dagger. After that we talked a bit and I've been spending my time fairly comfortably. Good to see sky again though."

Harry dipped his head, hiding a grin. Only Alastor could be captured by a hostile intelligence agency and end up their 'guest'.

"I imagine it is Alastor. Look, we're going to have company back to Britain. They've sent those two mercs back with us because they're squibs. Either way we need to talk about something now before they catch up."

The four girls spread out around them and created a barrier of distance.

"Who's the agent you were following Mad-eye? We've got a leak and we have no idea who it is."

Moody grimaced

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. They have a metamorph. It's not Tonks, but someone pretending to be her. Dunno where the fuck Nymphadora is but the leak has been there since last summer."

Behind him he heard Hermione growl

"Are you saying a metamorph from a foreign intelligence agency has access to my parent's house?"

Alastor nodded grimly

"Aye lass I am. It's one of the reasons we made sure your parents were moved to Potter Manor with you two. They're safer there."

Harry would have said more but the two mercenaries exited the building behind them. He turned to them and offered a hand.

"We're going to be working together soon. We need to foster some kind of trust. I'm Harry Potter, though I figure you already knew that, my partner, Hermione Granger, that's Tracey Davis and Susan Bones, and of course you're aware of Fleur and her situation. I hope we can all work together without the kind of restrained aggression that has typified our encounters so far."

Victor seemed to pause a moment before reaching for his hand and shaking it with a firm, but not crushing, grip. A moment later Lucrezia brushed past him and looked Harry in the eye, she was half a foot shorter than him but she managed it somehow.

"If Victor dies because of you I'll kill you myself."

He couldn't help but smile at that rather typical threat.

"Understood."

She stuck her hand out and shook his with a quick motion.

"Lucrezia Acossi, and this lump is Victor Vestaldt. We'll see you at the airport in three hours yes?"

"Yes"

"Then arrivederci for now."

She brushed past him as well and headed towards the exit of the compound.

"Lu hates it here, she's really very happy to be leaving. It'll be good to see Britain again, it's been a long time since I was there."

Victor's deep voice caught Harry by surprise, it was strangely friendly.

"Look, I only care about keeping her safe and happy. We're locked into contract with these fuckers because they helped us find the necromancer that killed both our families. When the five of you turned up and slaughtered an entire hit squad sent to kill you it set me on edge, I was worried you'd kill her. Now that you're not a threat I can relax around you, hell maybe we can even get along."

Harry eyed the taller man with vague mistrust, the one-eighty turnaround was a little disconcerting, but he was nothing if not adaptable.

"Sure, go look after your partner, we'll see you at the airport."

Victor flicked him a casual salute before stomping off. The immense man couldn't help but make noise with all the armour and equipment he carted around with him.

"That was… strange."

Hermione took his arm and steered him towards the exit.

"Very, why did we need to be here for three hours?"

He grinned and turned to his lover.

"You'd never forgive me if we didn't get something from the capital of Poland as a souvenir."

"It's whatever that souvenir is that worries me."

"Don't be worried Hermione, it's nothing extravagant."

"Sure."

-:-

"Nothing extravagant? _This_ is what you call nothing extravagant?"

Hermione looked at her partner in exasperation before turning back to the beautiful amber necklace that was draped over the stand on the counter of the jewellery store they had travelled to. Harry had sent Mad-eye to organise their flights, he and the girls didn't know a shred of Polish, while he and the girls went shopping. Exquisite jewellery wasn't the only thing on his mind though. He wanted to get a lay of the land if they ever had to come back.

Poland was excellently placed as a springboard into both Russia and Germany, and France for that matter. If they ever had to take offensive action against those countries as a result of the war against Valmortis then perhaps the Witch Hunters' home city could be their point of attack. Moreover however if they ever had to come back as an offensive action against the Witch Hunters he wanted a better idea of where their compound was situated within the city.

Currently however Hermione was dealing with the fact that her bond-mate had bought her the most expensive piece of jewellery she had ever seen up close and personal.

"Sure, I mean extravagant would be a car or something right?"

"Harry you could buy a car with the money this cost you."

He looked chagrined and hurt and suddenly she felt terrible. Here he was trying to do something sweet for her and she was just bitching about the money. She touched the necklace carefully and smiled at him.

"It's beautiful Harry I love it."

He looked down and she felt a hint of deception from him, nudging it made him grin and look at her.

"I can't get anything past you. This is something of a self serving gift. I can replace the chain with a custom one I'll transfigure for you that will have protective spells engraved into it."

She sighed under her breath and kissed his cheek.

"Thankyou sweetheart. C'mon, let's get this boxed and head out. I know there's more you want to do in the city before we leave."

She glanced at the three girls cooing over a row of earrings and frowned. She really didn't want them to go home empty handed. Quietly she went up on tiptoes and whispered in Harry's ear.

"Get them an early Yule present love. They'll adore you for it."

He turned to her and whispered back with a frown.

"They already adore me, do we really want to encourage that?"

She rolled her eyes

"Get them the earrings Harry. Go, I'll wait here."

She shook her head at him as he limped over to the girls and reflected on how far he had come from the bewildered boy who she had met in the train five years ago. She frowned though at the pain he was in. The tendons in his ankle had been more severely injured then they thought. He really shouldn't be walking around but they didn't have a whole lot of choice. When they got home to the manor, with it's infuriatingly sized furniture, she'd make him rest until he could walk without a limp again.

His back had been particularly bad this morning. The cold here was pervasive and harsh, he'd not only been paralyzed but his muscles had tensed to a rigour that had caused him considerable pain. She hated to see him in so much pain but, again, there was little to be done about it. The sooner they got home the better.

Annoyingly high pitched sounds from the Susan reached Hermione's ears and she couldn't help but grin. She had Harry, he was hers, so she didn't mind him keeping those two… three, happy. They were an important part of their family and Hermione had a feeling they'd be around for a long time. Smiling still she moved over and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist.

"We good to go here? We should keep moving."

-:-

The airport, Warsaw Chopin was much the same as any other international airport. Steel, glass, ticket booths everywhere. Mad-eye met them by the entrance where the taxi dropped them off and handed them each their tickets.

"I've bought tickets for our new friends as well. We're leaving from gate three in two hours. There's a cafe nearby where we can wait for the other two."

Harry nodded and followed Alastor to the cafe where he pulled out a chair for Hermione and stood at her shoulder, looking around at everyone who passed by. They might be under amnesty from the Witch Hunters but as Victor mentioned the previous night, non-magical crime was still a very real threat.

Hermione was having none of his watchdog routine however and pulled out a chair beside her, looking at it pointedly.

"Sit down Harry, your ankle will only get worse if you stay on it."

Grumbling somewhat he sat and resisted the urge to glare at the waitress who had just arrived to take their order and was giggling behind her notepad. Moody rattled off a string of Polish and the girl darted off without another word, must be a busy shift.

They all sat in relative quiet while they waited for their order, just as the waitress was coming back with six cups of coffee all hell broke loose.

A spray of bullets traced it's way up the wall next to them and, amongst the screams of other travellers, they threw themselves to the ground and Harry kicked the table onto it's side, wincing at the pain shooting up his leg. Their rifles were in their shielded travelling cases and Susan was already scrabbling at the lock to the larger one. Another spray of bullets sparked off the tiles around them, throwing up chips of dust.

"I'm fucking sick of being shot at, I was sick of it in Austria and I'm sick of it now. Tracey have you got your rifle sorted out yet?"

Sitting with her back to another overturned table was Tracey who had somehow managed to get all the components of her rifle into her outfit and was piecing it together. Harry suspected expanded pockets.

"Nearly, I've only got one magazine though and this an awful position to fight from."

Harry made a decision then, the only one he could in this situation.

"Sidearms out then, we'll see if these things are any good."

Moody grunted from beside him.

"Three shooters, one with an automatic weapon, the other two have handguns."

"That eye of yours is dead useful Mad-eye, have you got any other tricks on hand?"

He grunted again

"Nothing that wouldn't break the statute of secrecy. One's left, behind a pillar, he's got the smg. The other two are advancing from store to store. They were waiting for us, I saw one of them earlier in the main concourse."

Harry waggled his neck from side to side, trying to dispel that annoying crick that never seemed to go away.

"Right, Hermione you and I will hit the two, Tracey you try and pick off the one. Fleur, Susan, Mad-eye, get ready to exfil… Ready?"

"Ready"

The chorus of voices that met him was reassuring. These were people, with the exception of Fleur, who he'd trained with for just such a situation. He took a deep breath and, just as he was about to pop out to fire he heard a much deeper bark of automatic fire and the visceral boom of a shotgun.

"Alastor?"

"Those mercs have arrived. They're hitting them from the other side, go now!"

Harry and Hermione popped up and fired at the same time, the shots weren't accurate but they distracted the beleaguered attackers enough that Tracey got a clean shot into what Harry could only assume was the leader. The man crumpled to the ground with a hole through his chest.

The tiny Acossi girl darted forwards and rolled behind a table before popping up and firing a quick burst into the back of one of the other two and Victor cleaned up the last one with a series of shots that blasted away the panelling protecting the last gunman. Blood splattered against the back wall of the store he had sheltered in and a body slumped to the ground.

The two mercenaries moved with some swiftness and met the teens halfway.

"Non-magical gunmen hired by a Knight of Walpurgis originating from Liechtenstein, the same group that attacked you on the road. We need to get you out of Poland and I can't make another hop so soon, or with so many people. We need to go by road, now."

Harry took one look around the blitzed concourse before nodding.

"Fine, let's go."

-:-

An3: A bit earlier this time… I think.

An4: Review responses

Friar14: I think that this was probably the most motivational review I've ever received. Thank You for that. It made all the difference in whether this chapter was finished or not. As you can see I have decided to continue, as is, mostly because I was inspired to do so. We'll see how long that lasts.

Zookster: Thank you for your review, I'm glad to hear you stuck with this despite the enormous writing gaps. I'm hoping my burst of inspiration will bring a greater amount of productivity to the work.

Tellur: There's the justification for the Lichtenstein chapter ;) Chekhov's gun in effect here. I tend to make sure that if I mention something in a chapter it ends up being relevant eventually. Thanks for your review.

Pairingmatters: Thanks for your review, I think I answered it via PM already but if I didn't feel free to poke me and get a response.

TheProphetBVB: The reference to his age in Deceit was A: From the perspective of someone who didn't have all the information (If I remember correctly), and B: I always reserve the right to edit parts of my characters as I develop them. In this case it was predetermined but it might not always be. I've got a list of things to go back and edit but this isn't on the list. As to your actual question? Very old, very fucking old. Thanks for your review

Toraach: Another review that I'm sure I replied to in PM, but for anyone else who was curious the Anti Tank mine wasn't there by accident. It was put there by the ambushers.

Keitapurple69: Thanks for your review, as you can see, I do intend to write more.

Guest: Glad to hear you're so invested, thanks for your review. I am infact intending to continue it.

VioletBuckBeak: Sirius is/should be legally innocent. If somehow I never actually put that into the story please poke me about it, something that definitely needs to be edited in. You raise a lot of interesting points, all things that will have to be covered soon. Thanks for your reviews.

Okay folks that's it for another chapter. Tune in next time for Chapter Six: Hitmen. Wherein events back in Britain begin to shift apace and the teens with their new allies exfiltrate from Poland.

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


	6. Hitmen

An: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

An2: Let's just get to it shall we? I've made you wait long enough. A fair bit of swearing in this chapter and violence, and some gore… You've been warned.

-:-

Chapter Six: Hitmen

They had carte blanche in this city but it still felt like there was a harsh gaze of an underhanded nature observing them as the group of eight dashed out of the airport. Mad eye was doing a credible job of appearing to run whilst actually using subtle magic to propel himself along.

They had left a trio of corpses in their wake. There was no time to conceal the bodies, or dispose of them in haste. The only option was flight. The group couldn't stand and fight in a city unfamiliar, with no intelligence, and potential assailants hiding behind the faces of ordinary men and women.

The teenagers moved like the soldiers they were trained as. Their lean bodies dropping into a flat sprint as they reached open ground. Mad eye kept up, somehow, and Fleur loped along with the same grace that she carried herself with always. Lucrezia and Victor made do, he in his bulky armour and she short of stature and length of leg.

The airport was modern enough, many square kilometers of carparks and carriageways stretched out radially from the terminal. Offering little cover and there were travellers aplenty thronging to and fro. Leaving and arriving from the national airport of Poland. It was into this morass that the eight dashed. Civilians scrambled away from them, already somewhat cowering from the gunshots that had sounded within.

It was chaos, Tracey darted her gaze left and right as she followed close on Susan's heels. The crowd scattered before them and, even as they pressed towards a low wall on the edge of a road, a shot rang out from high above, followed by the clash of metal. She didn't hesitate even for a moment to raise her weapon to shoulder and fire a shot in return, wildly and in the dark. But the damage was already done; Harry sprawled to the gravel, his weapon skated across the ground with a horrendous screech.

Hermione's pained scream of fear and disbelief rolled over her like a wave. She dashed to him and hauled him back against the wall even as they took cover and Lucrezia propped her weapon up and began to stare through the scope. Tracey moved to bring her own rifle to bear but another shot rang out and she swore harshly, ducking behind the concrete. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to control her breathing so as to avoid looking at Harry beside her. She could feel the ever present warmth of his body pressed against her flank.

Tracey fully expected to hear sobs from her friend behind her. But Harry's soulmate was not one to break down at such a time. She instead heard a rallying call.

"Mad eye! Have you located the shooter?"

The returning negative grunt wasn't well received.

"Well find the arse quicker then, we don't have the time to screw around here Mad Eye!"

A soft murmur came from Tracey's left and she glanced at the lithe merc who was still staring down her scope.

"Air control tower, he's moved on. We need to as well."

None of them hesitated; Victor burst _through_ the low concrete wall they were sheltering behind and charged across the carpark, shards of concrete blasted out and a thick cloud of obscuring dust billowed out, shielding them from further fire. Tracey was hot on his heels with a sleeve held tight to her mouth to stave off the cloud of dust. Hermione was right beside her with a somehow conscious and swearing Harry slung in a fireman's carry over her shoulders. Finally Susan and Lucrezia brought up the rear, both women clutching their bulky weapons across their abdomens as they bulled through the cloud.

Another shot rang out and Tracey flinched from the metallic peal that echoed around the carpark as a high caliber bullet skated off of Victor's shoulder guards. The man didn't even pause and as far as Tracey could tell the bullet hadn't even scratched his armour.

Lucrezia paused briefly to raise her weapon but after a half moment of staring through the scope lowered it again and resumed her pell-mell dash across the tarmac. A clipped report shouted in haste explaining her actions.

"Another one, roof of the concourse, he ducked before I could fire. There will be at least two more."

The, apparently ubiquitous, slate grey jeep the two mercs had arrived in squatted in the carpark like a caged animal next to the relatively maudlin commuter cars parked in the lot. The eight of them piled into it; Lucrezia, Harry and Hermione in the Jeep's tray with the other five filling the seats. Tracey piled into the side of the car, Fleur ahead of her and Susan on the other side.

They pealed out of the carpark with Victor performing some somewhat impressive driving, smashing through wooden barriers and shouldering smaller cars aside. Shots pinged around them initially but quickly fell away as they made it out onto the main roads. Harry's still swearing voice could be heard over the engine's roar, the sharp tenor of his anger a clear counterpoint to the more explosive sounds of the Jeep.

"Fucking pricks shooting me in the bloody knee, who the fuck shoots someone in the fucking knee?"

Tracey glared at him over her shoulder.

"If it's not fatal then shut up a bit you great lug. We need to focus."

His reply honestly shocked her a little.

"Fuck you too Tracey with your stupid hair and your stupid eyes, telling me to shut up."

She glanced at Hermione who was looking at her mate with exasperation. The brunette met her gaze and shrugged apologetically.

"Pain killing charms make him a little loopy. Especially when they barely affect him. Right now he feels like he's got the worst itch of all time in his knee while at the same time being completely stoned. Typically I try to avoid using them on him but he'd probably be screaming without them. I've done a quick patch job but we don't have the time for the serious work he needs."

She raised an eyebrow at the girl before turning back to the front, she had no idea how Hermione of all people knew what being stoned would feel like, maybe casual drug use was more common in the muggle world.

Susan, despite the situation, met her gaze across Fleur's back who was seated between them. The redhead's eyes were filled with amusement and a bit of jealousy. She mouthed 'hair' and 'eyes' before rolling her own and facing the side again.

Tracey couldn't help but giggle happily under her breath and suppress a joyous grin. Apparently Harry wasn't completely immune to her charms.

-:-

"Amelia, what the hell is this?"

The minister for magic sighed in exasperation as her lover slapped the paper down on the desk between them. The headlines proudly proclaimed that 'Peace returns, this time for good?'. The article directly beneath that fallacious headline speculated on the lack of hostilities in Britain after the defeat of You Know Who's forces at the battle of the ministry.

"Siri... technically there _is_ peace. We're in something of a cold war at the moment."

Bones manor was a beautiful place, far more open and airy than Number Twelve. They'd both agreed it'd be a happier place for them both to reconnect than the Black family seat. Sirius had regained a lot of the vigor of his youth under the vaulted ceilings of the ancient manor. It had been wonderful to have him close, and safe, again. However it was times like this that she was reminded of the many arguments of their mid-war courtship.

"I know that, you know that, but the papers seem to be ignoring it. Can't you make them print the truth or something?" 

She eyed him with no small amount of annoyance.

"If you mistake me for Cornelius again I'll show you to his home and you can warm his bed instead. I'll not use the power of my office to dictate over what _should_ be a free press. They know the facts but they're refusing to print them. "

He growled in frustration and swept a scarred and tattooed hand through his, now clean and straight, hair. She loved it when he did that, it had a certain boyish charm that she couldn't help but adore.

"They're barking, absolutely barking. Wait no that's…"

She cut him off before he continue one of his appalling puns.

"No, don't you dare, not in this house. If you want to make those awful jokes you can go back to Number Twelve and share your brand of humor with that despicable mother of yours."

He pouted at her before firming his mouth into a firm line of disapproval.

"The public is going to be utterly unprepared for what's going to happen."

She flicked her quill she'd been writing with to the blotter, the ink long congealed in the nib, and leaned back in her chair. There was no easy way out of this mire.

"We can only hope they won't have to be. Your godson is accumulating his forces around him, the auror corps is finally up to scratch after nearly nine months of training and we've had word from our allies in the colonies."

The magical world was strange in that respect. The magical enclaves in New Zealand, Australia, India, and even America, were still under British rule. They governed themselves, but were subject to the whim of the Queen more so than their muggle counterparts, and even the Ministry of Magic in Britain had some power over them. While the American muggles had wished emancipation from their British overlords, the magical divide had never been so sharp. The magical world shared one currency, had had a central watchdog government in the ICW for over a millennium and communication had been swift between continents even hundreds of years ago.

Sirius looked rather startled at her last statement.

"I thought they weren't able to help."

Amelia made a so-so gesture with one hand.

"They can't officially. Her Majesty hasn't called for a domestic task force to eliminate the threat so they can't send an army. But the MANZACS have sent two squads on a 'training exchange' and the American Mage Corps has dispatched an Archmage detachment under a similar cover."

He smiled slightly, nothing more than an upturn of the corner of his lips. It wasn't one of his laughing grins, or a sly smirk. It was just a smile, an acknowledgement that all hope wasn't entirely lost.

"Do we have any idea when to expect them."

"Five days from now, Friday."

-:-

Darkness, endless darkness. Since the Dark Lord had falled to treachery all she had known was darkness. His mind, like rusted razor wire, had shredded hers with his legilimency and she barely had enough of herself left to know that she was, in fact, a _self_. Her memory was broken, shattered, fleeting. Memories of strange, happy times occasionally flitted through her mind. Images of halcyon days now long past in the shadows of the past.

She lived in a cupboard. It was cramped, dingy, dark. But it was relatively comfortable. More comfortable than the times _before_ when the boy had taken her body. That was almost worse than what happened to her mind. He made her _enjoy_ that.

She remembered those moments. It seemed that while the mind couldn't remember pain, it could remember horror, fear, misery. And it remembered it better than happiness. Far better. She clung to those memories, though it was like gripping a white hot poker, because they were _her_. Not a happy time of her, but definitely her.

If she twisted she could put her eye up to a crack in the boards of the cupboard door. The boy occasionally shoved food around the door to her. It certainly wasn't regular, or very much. But she got far more information by simply watching.

He clutched a strange disc of burnished copper. Muttered to it occasionally, sometimes she would swear she could hear it mutter back. But her mind was like a sieve, leaking information almost faster than she could gather it. For everything she witnessed she forgot a dozen more tiny instances of use.

Like how he sometimes stopped what he was doing abruptly and walked from 'their' chambers and into the main part of the building. Like how sometimes his voice seemed far too chaotic for one person to speak. Like how on occasion, he collapsed to the ground, and didn't rise for days at a time.

Her stomach growled weakly, she hoped he would feed her soon, before he had another fit.

-:-

Draco hated the old Riddle house. It's musty curtains and dark hallways were a prison of his own making. He'd been offered freedom; Valmortis certainly didn't have need for him. But where was he to go? His mother was dead, his father was dead. The Dark Lord had _fallen_. He needed to be here, where magic was thick and the food was adequate. Better than a cold jacket on a wet alleyway.

He did fear however that he was slowly losing his mind. He was certainly losing time, he'd go wandering down a corridor and arrive abruptly at the end of it without noticing the journey. He'd begin eating, only to find himself waking up from a deep slumber. What escape was there for a broken, amateur terrorist? Where was he to go when the pureblood powers had been thrown down and obliterated under the jackboot of _light_ dictatorship?

There was no where to go. So he'd stay, he'd take orders from his master… what a wonderful nap...

-:-

Potter Manor felt horribly empty without Harry and Hermione around to fill it with their presence. Hermione was often the easiest one to find, cursing often at the inconveniently scaled stairs, door handles, cupboards, chairs and so on. Or curled up in the immense library with a similarly immense tome of knowledge.

Harry was trickier to find, oft he would be in his study, which was warded from entry and required him to deliberately allow entry to those other than himself and Hermione. Should he be in that room it would be nearly impossible to engage him in conversation. If for some reason he wasn't in his study the young Potter patriarch could be found striding from place to place about the gargantuan home.

Emma often wondered what business he dealt with, when she looked in on him in his study those few times when he allowed access to all and sundry, she found him deeply absorbed in contracts and papers of the legal and economic lean. The Potter holdings were, according to Hermione, enormous and required full time management most of the time, though Emma had no specific understanding of what exactly those holdings were.

She wondered if Harry retained an aide to manage the day to day running of his various business, or if there was a more local element of management on a location to location basis. Regardless there were a great many mysteries surrounding him and his family's wealth.

The house was beautiful however. It's frescoed ceilings and magnificent design often led her to simply wandering about the Potter family seat. Little John often accompanied her, swaddled up in a wondrous cloth that Harry had given her which kept her child perfectly warm at any given time. Magic was such a fantastic thing. The elder Granger woman held few of the troubles her daughter had with the scale of the house and furniture. Hermione rushed about much like her father, flitting from project to project before settling down to some serious research. This frequently led to the girl running into, and tripping over, perfectly ordinary objects. It made her appear frightfully clumsy, though Emma knew that her daughter was ordinarily nothing but elegant.

Emma on the other hand was a more reserved soul. She preserved to meander from place to place, taking in the full detail of the beautiful home. As a result she rarely skinned her knuckles on the highly set doorknobs, or tripped on steps deeper than they might ordinarily be.

But she would give anything to have her typically elegant but selectively clumsy daughter nearby. She missed Hermione dearly and knew that she and her beloved were moving from danger to danger. It was hard to be the one left behind while her daughter, essentially, went to war.

As she pushed open the door to the white room, a sitting room for casual conversation that was rarely used in the modern age, she stopped abruptly in her tracks. Before her was Parvati Patil, hunched over and keening with stress or grief, Emma couldn't tell which. Swiftly she swept over to the distraught girl and wrapped her up in a hug. She didn't know the Indian witch very well but both her daughter and Harry trusted her enough to lead the Regiment in their absence so Emma imagined that she would be a reliable sort.

From the little she'd seen of Parvati the girl didn't seem prone to waterworks, and the scene she'd walked in on reinforced that. The girl had been keening but her eyes were strictly dry. Desperately she tried to comfort the girl, shushing her and rubbing a motherly hand over the girl's back, lost as to what to do.

Hermione had never been a crier, or a wailer, or one prone to any kind of grief or distress at all. She snapped at those around her if her nerves frayed, but rarely, if ever, did she outright collapse or break down. As a result Emma had little experience dealing with a distraught teenage girl, despite having a daughter of a similar age.

Eventually Parvati hugged her back and buried her head into Emma's shoulder, nuzzling close against her cashmere sweater. Not for the first time the non-magical woman wondered how the kids were doing without their parents around to guide them.

Clearly not very well.

At last the girl seemed to recover herself and pulled away, clutching at her arms as if ashamed at her outburst of emotion. From what Emma had gleaned of the girl's home culture that mightn't be far from the truth.

"What's the matter Parvati? Are you hurt?"

It was a weak question, but little else was coming to mind and Emma felt that expediency was more important than eloquence at this point.

"I'm being left behind!"

Emma started, she'd been certain that the girl was reconciled with the fact that Harry and Hermione had left her in charge whilst they went to the continent. Perhaps that wasn't the case? The girl still held loosely in her arms sobbed then, a raw harsh sound that tore at Emma's heartstrings.

"Father and Mother are taking her back to India with them as they flee. They've had enough of Britain… and I can't go with them. I can't abandon this, Harry and Hermione need me here. And even though I know they'd both rather I flee whilst I can too. The regiment is a volunteer unit. I have every right to be here."

Emma was shocked, she couldn't even begin to imagine abandoning her daughter in another country to fight a war whilst she fled for safer climes.

"Would you prefer to go with them?"

Parvati moaned in distress and shook her head.

"No, no I know, I _know_ that this is where I need to be, where I want to be. But it hurts, it desperately hurts to just be left behind."

Emma crooned to the girl and pulled her back into a hug, letting her express the tension from her frame as she simply held her and stroked the girl's long black hair.

"Be happy that they're safe. And take heart that you are doing the right thing, you're such a good person and I can't thank you enough for looking after my two."

A soft chuckle sounded against her shoulder and muffled speech filtered up to her a moment later.

"I'm pretty sure they can look after themselves. But you're welcome anyway Mrs Granger."

Suddenly a thought struck the elder woman and she asked somewhat blithely

"Why couldn't I hear you until i opened the door?"

"Magic"

She sighed, right, magic.

-:-

It would have been too easy for them to simply escape. They were wending their way out of the city when a sharp crack echoed through the vehicle and without warning the jeep span out of control, drifting and fishtailing wildly. It spun fully around and came to a grinding halt facing the way they had come. Harry grunted in pain as his whole body was jostled in the tray of the vehicle. Hermione was almost thrown clear of the tray but managed to hang on grimly. Only Harry's prone stance saved him from a potentially fatal roll across the pavement. Lucrezia on the other hand, leapt clear of the vehicle and dashed for the alley nearest their crash as soon as they came to a halt, and not a moment too soon.

Barely had she left the vehicle when, almost out of the blue, another four by four vehicle slammed into the side of the jeep. Harry rolled involuntarily from the shock and Hermione was finally loosed from her hold and tossed bodily from the vehicle. His head smacked into the side of the tray and his ears rang from the impact. A bear-like roar came from the driver's seat and the staccato barks of Victor's shotgun ripped out, the sound of tearing metal, and shattering glass came from what Harry could only assume was the vehicle that had rammed them.

He wasn't given any time to recover however as he was hauled from the tray of the Jeep, his body twisting violently as a man hauled him up, and then over the lip of the tray. The hands that had grabbed the back of his jacket were not huge, but clearly great strength was behind them. He expected to be thrown but was instead wrapped in a crushing hug from behind; not one of affection, but grim fatality. He felt his ribs begin to creak ominously and lashed out with his good leg, crashing the heel of his boot into the man's knee. Abruptly the man crumpled with a yell and Harry fell with him, landing awkwardly on his good leg and twisting away from his injured one.

The world spun around him as he fell but by throwing out his hands he managed to arrest his fall in time to see his assailant retch onto the road from the pain of having his knee reversed from Harry's savage kick. Another man, wearing a woollen balaclava, strode up and aimed a vicious kick at his abdomen. Left with little choice Harry pushed off from the pavement, throwing himself into a roll to avoid the military style boot heading for his kidneys. With his leg injured as he was he had no way of rising to his feet to meet the man in open combat, so decided to level the playing field.

A quick motion with one hand wielded his burgeoning wandless magic to yank the man's legs out from under him. He capitalized quickly, grabbing the man by the throat with both hands and leveraging himself atop the hitman. He didn't have time to draw a weapon or he would have, this method of attack was hardly ideal but he had little choice against a stronger, taller, uninjured opponent.

The man threw a sharp knee into Harry's own and he saw stars as his shattered knee cap flared with pain, grimly he held on though, ignoring the man's hands scrabbling at his wrists. Deciding he'd wasted too much time already Harry reared backwards, dragging the man with him and then shoved forwards, using gravity and his body weight to slam the back of the man's head against the ground. A sharp crunch of bone was heard and he went immediately still.

But Harry wasn't out of the woods yet, a kick impacted into his side and he realized belatedly that there were far more than just a handful of assailants. In the mere ten seconds that had passed since he had been hauled from the Jeep two more men had entered the fray. He twisted and threw himself away from them, rolling painfully on the road even as a staccato burst of shots rang out and one of the men fell to the floor, his head a bullet riddled mess.

The other man was not to be deterred however and he reached Harry and without giving the boy a chance to fight back, hauled him up with startling strength and tossed him a clear five meters further into the road. Being thrown like that was one of the most disorienting things Harry had ever experienced and as his instincts kicked in, his body trying to use the muscle memory built up over hours of training, he slammed both feet against the ground in an attempt to move into a controlled roll.

Of course that was just about the dumbest thing he could have done as sharp agony lanced up his flank as his ankle and knee both protested violently at the rough treatment. He pitched to the ground, red lines swimming across his vision as he desperately sought to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand.

He only got a brief thought out that Lucrezia, for it could only have been her weapon that produced the rapid fire burst of bullets from before, got to this bear of a man who was advancing on him rapidly but it was not to be. The man, easily over six foot tall, reached down and plucked him from the ground like an athlete would a tennis ball. Harry found himself held him out in front of the man, his feet a clear foot off the ground with the man's hands wrapped around his throat. Already groggy and disoriented from his encounter with the ground Harry quickly found his vision greying over, his hands scrabbling at the man's wrists, as the other assailant's had at Harry's not moments before.

With the last of his energy he flicked his legs backwards, and then swung forwards, his shorter stature letting him fold up entirely under his opponent and kick out at the man's head. The hitman let out a surprised, but not overly pained, grunt as Harry's boot smashed into his nose. The shock of it alone forced the man to stumble back and let go of his prize. Once again Harry crashed to the ground, he honestly tried to scream but he didn't have the air to manage it, his leg had folded under him in the fall and he could feel his knee protesting at being stretched so harshly then crushed under his own weight. Immediately he sucked in a harsh breath and the grey at the edges of his vision receded enough for him to focus. Almost on instinct he whipped his pistol out from the holster at his hip and squeezed out a shot from the enormous handgun.

The recoil of the shot forced his arm back, as he'd only had the time to pull and fire, rather than brace the shot with his other arm. His aim was off, but he still hit his target. Where he had been aiming for the man's chest, instead the massive bullet hit him in the thigh. The result was horrifying, the man's entire leg spun away from the sheer force of the shot, muscle bone and skin ripping and snapping in one violent motion.

The man screamed from pain and shock as he tumbled to the ground, blood fountaining everywhere and spraying across the ground from the arteries that Harry had just torn open. Harry, unable to move in his current state, could do little more than watch in horror as the man screamed in gut wrenching pain before whimpering, gasping, and then finally falling silent, his face frozen in a rictus of agony with eyes bloodshot and staring wide open. It was a violently sudden death and Harry wondered how much of it had been the shock of the impact and actual blood loss.

He began to reload the weapon held in his suddenly shaking grip and looked around, searching for his next opponent. He locked eyes with the man he had kicked earlier, the one whose knee was currently inverted and they shared a moment of understanding between them. Hatred mixed with regret and rage passed between them and the man raised a handgun to shoot but another, sharper, shot rang out and the man's head exploded violently and his body immediately slumped to the ground, the handgun clattering away. Looking up he locked eyes with those of his concerned lover, who had somehow kept her rifle with her when she was thrown from the jeep.

Her head was bloody, obviously she'd been injured when she fell, and her extremities were grazed and bleeding. But she was alive, gloriously alive, and judging by the wisps of cordite smoke still drifting from the barrel of her rifle she'd just saved his life. He sent a burst of love through their restricted bond before turning his attention to the rest of the street.

Lucrezia was crouched in the alley, breathing heavily but otherwise without obvious injury, two bodies were slumped next to her. Victor was prowling around the perimeter, his enormous armoured frame a sufficient deterrent to the curious civilian population. Moody and Tracey both seemed unconscious in the back of the car being worked on by a frantic Susan. Fleur was on the ground, several bullet wounds in her abdomen were leaking blood, but she mostly appeared winded rather than severely injured. The benefits of serene immortality he supposed.

They were so exposed here, there were eleven dead Hitmen sprawled around including four in the four by four that Victor had annihilated. The front of the car had been smashed in, the windscreen shattered and the seats and dash torn to shreds along with the hood of the car. Victor's combat shotgun seemed to either use extremely high calibre slugs or explosive ones because giant holes had been torn out of the metal and upholstery.

He raised his voice somewhat before speaking, aware that they were still very much at threat, but horrendously exposed.

"Lucrezia, we need to get everyone out of here."

The youthful woman eyed him for a moment before jerkily nodding and rising to her feet, swaying somewhat from the effort. Clearly she wasn't as uninjured as she let on.

"We need everyone conscious, can you wake Moody and the girl?"

Hermione shot her a dirty look that amused Harry to no end, especially because the merc didn't see it.

"Her name's Tracey and yes, we can. Or at least we should be able to, Tracey knows the same first aid spells as the rest of us."

She frowned and looked at the battered jeep before also rising to her feet, wincing at the pain. She shot Harry and apologetic glance but he just sent her a burst of reassurance. He was in pain, but it wasn't life threatening, he could wait. The two in the car might be significantly worse off.

The car itself was a wreck and Harry catalogued it's damage for lack of anything better to do. The most obvious scar was the deep deformation of the metal panels on the right side of the vehicle where the four by four had smashed into it at speed. The two cars were next to one another to the side of the relatively deserted street. The fact that the street _was_ relatively deserted was concerning. This was an arterial route in and out of the city; it should be teeming with traffic. But they were the only ones there in vehicles. Victor had scared off a half dozen civilians and had confiscated the phone of another. They didn't need civilian doctors involved in this. They'd be holed up in hospital for months with the kind of injuries Harry had, let alone Fleur who would simply raise too many questions. To speak nothing of the dozen dead bodies lying on the street and butchered inside the four by four.

The windows were all blown out. The front windscreen had smashed outwards from the compressive force of the four by four hitting the side of the Jeep. the side windows facing the four by four were blown in and those on the other side outwards. The rear windshield was also smashed out but it was a jagged hole rather than a complete shatter. Harry figured Fleur had dived through the rear window to get to the battle quicker. There were bullet holes peppering the sides of the vehicle from where they had taken fire escaping the airport. One of the wheels had been broken off completely and a thick rent had been torn in the metal near the rear bumper, it was charred and blackened as if burned.

Finally there was a bloody smear on the rear of the jeep accompanied by a large dent in the panel work. There was no body nearby so Harry suspected Victor had side swiped someone on the way out of the airport. He couldn't bring himself to care because at that moment his knee decided to make itself known again and he groaned in distress at the shooting pains that ran up and down his flank. Mental note; don't shift, even a little bit.

He was dragged abruptly from his agony by a cool hand on his cheek. He looked up to see Hermione looking down at him with concern and he simply nodded, indicating his readiness to depart the scene. Lucrezia placed a hand on his shoulder and offered the other to open air where it was joined by six others. He glanced around to see Tracey and Moody upright but groggy, clearly they'd taken heavy shocks from the impact and were only barely conscious, which said more about their mental state than it otherwise would because Hermione's reviving spells were _exemplary_.

He glanced around and noticed Lucrezia looking at him in askance, realizing she was waiting for instruction he grimaced slightly and asked;

"How far can you take us?" 

She cocked her head and frowned.

"I'm unsure of the upper limits of my talent, but for the sake of safety in that we do not test the consequences of those limits today, say a hundred kilometers or so."

His grimace turned to a frown, equalling hers in furor.

"Have you a safehouse outside the city we can reach?"

Abruptly both she and Victor looked extremely uncomfortable, Harry looked askance at them but they had eyes only for each other, after a moment Victor nodded and all eight of them simply disappeared.

-:-

Under the ashen skies of London, made so by banks of clouds, strode hundreds unnaturally beautiful women. If the pedestrians walking to and fro in that grimy city could gaze upon them they would have knelt in shock and adoration at the very sight. However these were not ordinary women, as their beauty attested. They wore shrouds over their faces, magical shields powered by rune encrusted circlets that made their faces appear as ordinary as any other.

They swept through the city like an inconspicuous tide, information was gathered, sites were reconned and, eventually, they made their way to the center of the city. Behind a dishevelled building was an overflowing tip that made their noses wrinkle and a painfully conspicuous scarlet phone box. The single, tiny, entry point was… unexpected. Very few witches and wizards travelled abroad, even heads of state rarely travelled anywhere other than embassies and as such the locations and natures of the world's ministries of magic were shrouded in secrecy.

They shared glances at one another, the crowd of them appeared like a swarm of shimmering fishes in the dull light, their hair shining unnaturally. Before shaking their heads in unison, they were not ready to infiltrate the seat of government, not yet. It would not help them find Potter quicker. What they needed was a way to gather intelligence. For now at least they would disperse and infiltrate the wizarding world of Britain, they would wait, and they would learn.

The crowd of Veela dispersed in but an instant, disapparating with a rattle of muted cracks. Where not even a second ago there was a vast number of ethereally beautiful women. Now only was there the stench of rotting fruit, and a rapidly fading haze that accompanied such goddesses through the world. None had seen the Veela enter Britain, and now that they were there, none would know their purpose.

Until they were ready to execute their assassination.

-:-

The eight of them materialized in a warm room panelled in a richly colored wood. There were sparse decorations about, but it was obviously lived in. There was a well worn couch in the center of the room positioned opposite a hearth. The ashes long dead fire sat grimly in behind the grate; Hermione tried not to let them be an omen.

Four doors led from the room, one was ajar and she glimpsed the ceramic tiles of a kitchen, or bathroom, through the crack. Another was wide open and showed a darkened hallway with more doors leading from it. One was clearly a door outside. It was a thick lacquered wood as opposed to the lighter doors made of panelboard that were identifiable as interior portals.

Mad Eye, despite his apparently battered head, immediately left the building and a moment later Hermione felt the thick, heavy magic of a War-mage level ward wash over the building.

Lucrezia moved abruptly away from the group and disappeared through one of the closed doors, quickly shutting it behind her with a snap. Victor brushed a hand across his head and collapsed, armour and all, in a heap on the couch. Clearly exhausted from the tension and exertion of their flight.

Hermione was numb, something about the abrupt transition of the female Heretic's magic always left her stunned, as if her prodigious brain somehow hadn't caught up to their sudden change in location. More likely her subconscious was trying to figure out what appeared to be instantaneous travel outside the realms of apparition or floo.

A harsh grunt broke her out of her reverie as Harry collapsed sideways and slid to the ground, bracing himself accidentally against the wall. His leg was a mess, the ankle he broke the day before was swollen and bloody, while his shattered knee lolled alarmingly to the side, uncontrolled by his body at an awkward angle. He had finally succumbed to unconsciousness, it wasn't hard to see why. Between the pain he must have been feeling from his mangled leg and the thick ropey bruises wrapping around his throat Hermione could sympathise with his exhaustion and battered state.

She didn't have the luxury of sloth however. Despite her burning curiosity about the house around them she sank to her knees and began the excruciating task of straightening Harry's leg and using his magic to coax his shattered kneecap back together. The biggest advantage of their bond in times like this was that Harry was unbelievably powerful, and his soul was eager to help her in any way it could. She barely had to imply what she wanted his magic to do before it began to wriggle the bits of bone scattered through the soft tissue of his calf and thigh back towards his knee.

She sighed as a wave of exhaustion swept over her, it had only been a handful of hours since they woke but already it had been a _long_ day. Moreover she wasn't used to manipulating Harry's magic like this. He was far more gifted in the actual application of magic and it showed; while Harry's magic was eager to help her, like an enthusiastic puppy almost, it was also hard to control. It flailed against her commands in its enthusiasm. Not attempting to disobey her wishes, but sometimes taking her commands too far, or causing further issues from the speed with which it responded. Several times she had to repair damaged ligaments and muscles from where an over-enthusiastic bone fragment had torn through the soft tissue.

It reminded her starkly of the previous night, when she had been subsumed into his being temporarily, how she had lost her personality in his greater whole. Their bond was not one of equals, as much as they both wanted it to be. Harry had been through truly harrowing experiences in his life and it had forged in him a far stronger character than she could ever hope to be. She loved him, unconditionally, and they both knew that her brain was the superior organ in terms of sheer computational capacity.

But in many other ways he was simply… more. He had been forced to mature in ways she only understood because of her bond with him, but hadn't actually experienced. Truly there were parts of his mind, his history, his experiences, that she didn't know a single thing about. His mind was locked tighter than a bank vault, but instead of protecting himself from the memories, he was protecting _her_ from them.

She loved him for that, truly, but it also separated them more than she liked to admit. Her worst experiences were second hand, usually waiting for Harry to return from whatever fresh horror he had been immersed into. Part of her wanted to be bitter about it, to resent that he had grown so much faster than her, that he was a… nearly finished product, if a broken one.

It was impossible to honestly hold that position though. To do so would be to wish some of the worst horrors humanity could inflict upon herself, rape, torture, murder and other lovely things that she could only imagine. Never mind the monstrous creatures Harry had gone toe to toe with over the years.

And here she was again, reduced to patching Harry up after yet _another_ near death experience. It was a wonder he hadn't bled out to be honest; magic was a wonderful thing.

-:-

As Hermione knelt and began the arduous process of patching up her lover, Susan watched dispassionately from the sidelines. She felt numb, the barks of Victor's shotgun still reverberated in her mind. She'd watched in horror as the hitmen in that suv had been _annihilated_ by the vicious weapon. She'd seen men die, she'd killed, but the sheer brutality of those deaths had forced her into what she understood was shock, but it was a self destructive spiral that she couldn't escape from on her own.

She'd killed before. The mercenaries in England were men and women that she'd cut down with her firearms, and sometimes even spells. But it was distant; she was removed the gory heave and flow of modern battle by her position at the rear of the forces, giving Tracey targets to move expediently eliminate. Today's events had been abrupt, raw and far too close for comfort.

She felt a nudge and stumbled slightly as Fleur, still holding Tracey aloft with an arm around her waist, pushed past her and staggered to a low slung armchair where she deposited her burden. Tracey was still obviously dazed but before Susan had a chance to shake herself from her funk, the female mercenary stalked back into the room with a first aid kit. She eyeballed the bondmates near the wall for a moment before turning stiffly to the girl slumped in the chair. Susan stumbled over so she could hear what the woman was saying.

"Tracey, listen to me, you've got a severe concussion. I need to you to stay awake and focus on me, can you do that? Victor, get over here."

The behemoth of a man heaved himself to his feet before moving with surprising grace over to the group of females.

"What can I do to help?"

The petite woman spared him a thankful glance before flicking a hand at the ajar door.

"Get me some ice, preferably in a dishtowel or something. She needs to be shocked a bit to remain awake. I don't have the kind of medicine she needs here so until one of the witches is free to magic her back to health we need to keep her awake and cognizant as long as we can."

A gruff grunt was Victor's only reply as he swept out of the room.

"Tracey, _stay awake_. And you, Susan? Get over here, you can help."

Still in a daze, the image of the gore splattered vehicle hovering in front of her vision, Susan did her best to stumble over to the merc.

" _Cazzo_ , you're no better off. What is it? Shock? I don't have the time to deal with you right now. Nosferatu, get her into warm clothes and bundle her in a blanket. Hold her and comfort her, give her water in small doses and whatever you do, _don't leave her alone._ Shock can destroy her mind if we don't keep her in a comfortable environment. There's a bathroom down the hall on the right to change her in. The rest of us probably wouldn't mind but Victor would have a stroke…"

The woman kept talking but Susan didn't get to hear the rest of her babbling tirade as she was ushered down the hall. It was dark, but not threatening or dingy. The whole house had an air of comfort and charm, despite it's obvious poverty. It was _cold_ though. A fresh wave of shivers swept through her and she clutched at herself. Between the violent images flashing through her mind and the chill of the home they were in she couldn't help it.

Fleur tutted and, after a moment, Susan felt herself being smoothly undressed. She wasn't body shy normally but something made her clutch at her clothes, wet from sweat and the ever present drizzle in Poland. Fleur tutted again and abruptly she found herself naked. It was quite a shock and she shrieked a little before feeling warm clothes wrap themselves around her.

Magic was a wonderful thing.

-:-

 _Everything_ hurt. His whole body was a mass of bruises and pain, his leg felt like what he imagined having a leg filled with broken glass would feel like, and his head and back were both throbbing with agony. His head because of the multiple traumas it had suffered and his back because of it's usual abhorrence to being any kind of helpful.

Hermione was there though, that felt great. Her magic was swamped over him in comforting waves, she was using their bond in a way he'd never experienced before. He'd honestly not been seriously injured since they'd been together so she'd never had the chance to heal him with his own magic.

It felt… really odd, if he were honest. Like a soothing crawling sensation all over his body as his magic was pulled and tugged into position. He was the one who typically wielded their power in any kind of cooperative effort. Even when they… merged, for want of a better word. The resulting amalgamation of personality was decidedly masculine.

So to feel her magic caressing his, pulling it into place and coaxing it to her will was a strangely comforting, if extremely weird, experience.

It still hurt though, it hurt _a lot_. More than anything he had ever felt before, more than the tremors and seizures he felt in the mornings, more than even Voldemort's cruciatus. The Cruciatus was something of an overwhelming pain, it didn't leave any room to understand or comprehend what was going on, it just hurt. It was also somewhat distant from reality. There was no physical reason _why_ a victim should be hurting, so it felt somehow disconnected.

But this… he could _feel_ the shards of bone crawling through his leg. He could _feel_ his body being crushed back into shape. It was real, present, and agonizing. It made him want to throw up just from the mental images, never mind the actual pain. He'd already thrown up in his mouth, twice; it sucked.

But she was there, and that kept him anchored to reality. Even when his entire body was rebelling, even when he was flickering in and out of consciousness like a faulty light bulb Hermione kept him locked to reality like a lodestone for his soul. In an uncharacteristically morbid moment he wondered what would happen if one of them died, would they both die? Or would one of them be drawn into the other like some kind of sympathetic wraith? He had no idea.

Eventually the pain began to ebb. He felt a horribly unpleasant sensation and then heard a completely audible crunch as his kneecap snapped back together. He groaned, releasing his first vocal sound in over a quarter hour. Hermione's dainty hand pressed lovingly against his jaw and he heard her whisper of comfort across their bond. It galvanized him into true consciousness and his eyes flickered open to gaze upon the face of his lover.

"Thankyou"

The word had passed his lips before he even made the conscious decision to speak. Once again the spoken word seemed to mean more, somehow, than their usual instantaneous method of silent communication.

"I love you."

"I love you too, can you stand?"

"Should I?"

She smiled wanly and the hand cupping his jaw stroked a thumb over his cheek. He couldn't help but nuzzle into the touch despite the headache raging through his skull. It was bliss.

"Probably not, just sit there and look dashing while I get you some water okay? Don't go to sleep, you've got a nasty head wound and I don't want you drifting off before I can fix you up properly."

He tried to sigh in exasperation but his mouth wasn't cooperating properly. In the end he settled for a huff.

"Herm… Hermione, I was unconscious."

She glared at him sternly, but there was little heat in the expression.

"All the more reason not to fall asleep. Focus on my arse if you have to, but stay conscious."

She smirked at him before turning and walking to a door, winking at him over her shoulder.

"Minx"

In his head he heard her loving tones.

"You love me for it."

-:-

Night fell swiftly over the cottage. There were a line of steep hills to the west of the house and because of them the cottage was plunged into darkness rather abruptly at the end of the day. It had always been something Lucrezia loved. The sharp definition between day and night, and conversely night and dawn, was something she had spent many nights watching in quiet contemplation.

It was marred slightly, even more than slightly, by the fact that she couldn't let her facade down and curl up with Victor on the couch. No, they had visitors, so such an event probably wouldn't be happening until they were given new accommodations in Wales of all places. At least Potter was rich. He'd be able to fork out for a decent room.

At the moment the Regimentals had occupied their living room, as it had the most space, and were treating one another's injuries. Victor was observing them as stealthily as his enormous frame would allow. It was almost adorable how he'd slink in the shadows, trying to remain stealthy, but knocking over every other object he came across like the enormous clutz that he was.

She walked over to him, to tired to strut, and simply leaned against him even as he blustered at her that she was blowing his cover.

"Shh, they don't care a whit about us. We allowed them into our home, it's a sign of trust even the British understand. Just… relax Victor, we'll evacuate in the morning."

He grumbled at her but acceded, trundling off towards their room with a beckoning flick of his hand in her direction. She felt a suppressed a smile and followed, maybe she did still have energy for some strutting.

-:-

"Silence that end of the house Harry? I don't really want to know who's the top in that relationship."

Harry sent her an amused look before flicking his wrist and releasing a small pulse of magic from his palm. His voice was filled with barely suppressed mirth as he responded.

"Not everyone has that kind of relationship Tracey."

She scoffed at him.

"Please, she's obviously far feistier than her size would suggest and he's a giant teddy bear. I bet it's her."

An amused snort sounded from the direction of the kitchen as Hermione returned.

"Let me make it clear, if there is a 'top' in that relationship, it's Victor. Have you been paying attention to any of their interactions? She follows his orders, defers to him, even stays behind him whenever she can. Her aloofness and arrogance is probably a shield or a mask."

Shaking his head Harry gestures in a circle, calling everyone in.

"We've not really had a chance to talk since the meeting. But the long and short of it is that we need their help, the witch-hunters that is. Until we get reinforcements from our allies we need those two mercs in there to bolster our defenses against the various threats moving against us. Valmortis went to ground, all part of his 'big plan' of course. The veela are a close and present threat, and there's an unknown force that attacked us today and yesterday. Valmortis… maybe he's the one behind all of this. But I can't help but feel like we're missing something. Either way we need help, and they're it till we get some from other countries… Thoughts?"

Mad Eye stomped through the door and spoke as he did so.

"Supersensory charms are fucking fantastic. Good summary Potter, we need to focus on getting home to old blighty. We've got legalities on our side there, while we're in Poland we've got immunity, but the moment we leave we're going to be vulnerable. They, whoever it is that's attacking us, has no compunctions about breaking the law. But we need to stay aloof of them as much as we can because if they drag us down to the mud we'll be fighting on their home-turf, and the magical states of Europe don't have extradition treaties with each other, so if we get caught, we'll face the justice of whatever magical state catches us." He pauses, rolling his jaw in irritation

"That means Veela. They control this entire bloc, if only behind the scenes. Poland is the only exception."

Hermione leaned back against the chair where Harry was propped up and sighed.

"We can probably make hundred kilometer hops with Lucrezia's ability but we really have no idea how much it tires her out, or if it has permanent repercussions. We need to source a means of getting off the continent as soon as possible."

Susan, now somewhat recovered from her shock but still shivering on occasion, spoke with a thoughtful expression.

"They'll have all of the airports blockaded in the same way they attacked us this morning. The ports are off-limits. What we need is a portkey."

"I could create one, but it'll light up to the entire bloc that we were here." Hermione looked hesitant, but Harry could tell she liked the idea

"Does it matter at that point? We're leaving. Once we're in England, or Wales for that matter, there's nothing they can do." 

Harry nods decisively, "Right, let's do it then. We need to get out of Poland first, to make it clear that we weren't interacting with the Witch Hunters, then we'll use a Portkey."

Tracey hauls herself to her feet, swaying slightly, but able to walk. "Mad eye, will your ward hold tonight?"

The old man nods "Well enough unless we come under attack. We shouldn't, as this is supposed to be a safe house, but if we do then we're fucked either way."

Shrugging Tracey lies flat on the couch, relaxing utterly. "Let's get some sleep then. No telling what'll happen tomorrow."

-:-

The day dawned red, but by the time it did the Eight travellers had already left the safe house. Victor and Lucrezia had easily acceded to the plan, confirming that they could in-fact travel by portkey, and Lucrezia shifted them outside the borders of Poland to a non-descript field in the middle of nowhere.

Harry's leg was splinted with a strap and length of transfigured steel. Tracey and Susan were both supported by Fleur who had healed overnight and Moody was nursing a headache, but they were all stable enough for travel.

Hermione pulled out a sock and cast the portkey charm with a decisive motion. Quickly they put their hands on the sock and, with a rush of magic, they disappeared into the aether. Seven seconds later a host of a hundred magical soldiers apparated into the empty field.

-:-

The world spun violently around them for several long seconds before disgorging them outside the wards of the Potter Estate. Moments later another host of soldiers appeared around them. But this time, they were friends.

-:-

An3: I won't give you some great speech about how the world was cruel to me and I couldn't find the inspiration to write. Mostly because it wouldn't be true. I've been working on a great many things and this was, unfortunately, somewhere down the list because I feel I've failed to keep the storyline constant and without major flaws. I've been laying out a firmer foundation for a complete re-write of the story. But I'd like to hear from you guys whether you'd prefer to just carry on with this limping wreck, or if you'd be patient enough for me to write the whole thing from scratch and use my new-found skill to improve it. Remember that I started writing this when I was just seventeen.

An4: As an aside I'm not at all happy with the 4th 5th of this chapter, it felt horribly contrived… ugh.

An5: Review responses

Guest reviews: Thank you for the reviews! But I've decided not to reply with detail until you decide to make the effort to review with an account.

Anotherboarduser: Thanks!

Bethanyrose: I'll definitely be doing post-Valmortis stories, but I can't do slice of life stuff. It needs to have conflict.

Mycrookshanks: Many thanks! I'm glad you think so.

Sarek: Many thanks!

Flowerchild: I'm glad someone thinks the writing is getting better x.x

Deathday party planner: Many thanks!

Izzygreen: Working on it (At last)

Old Crow: Thanks for your reviews. Few things to talk about here. First thing is your comment about hit wizards and aurors. The long and short of it is that there weren't that many of them during Fudge's reign, and it takes a great deal of time to train them, I've looked at the differences between stated canon training times for Aurors and the amount of time it takes to teach someone to shoot a gun accurately and the times are vastly disproportionate. It's no wonder that the Regiment is left holding the bag while Magical Britain sorts it's shit out.

As for the bird club, they're an intelligence organization, not a combat unit. Sirius, Remus, Mad Eye and Dumbledore are the fighters, and they've been present when they can.

As for the rest of your advice I'm taking it in stride. It was good advice.

Night-trollspz: Many thanks, as you can see I'm back into it at last.

Okay folks that's it for another chapter. Tune in next time for Chapter Seven: Return. Wherein events back in Britain begin to shift apace and the teens with their new allies re-integrate into the Regiment

As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark


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